Match Made in a Fictional Place
by themusicain
Summary: There's someone for everyone. Brains and John go to a science conference/ gathering in New York.
1. Chapter 1

**this title is only temporary, i couldn't think of anything else at the time. please feel free to suggest something more suitable. i'm hoping to make a series from this story, so please review.**

**this idea came to me ages ago, it's about time i actually wrote it in some recognisable form.**

Ch. 1

Madness reigned supreme on Tracy Island.

Jeff looked on lazily from his seat beside the pool, wondering if it was really worth getting up and reminding his sons that they were grown men. Then he consulted his body, and decided that it would be in his best interests to remain seated.

The plaster cast was the deciding factor. A few weeks ago, he had tripped and fallen down the stairs to the pool, resulting in some bruises, mild concussion and a broken wrist. It was still in a sling. The patriarch had found this infuriating, more so when he returned home. Then his mother had got involved. Jeff had learnt long ago never to try to argue, but when she condemned him to bed, taking it easy and _absolutely no work_, he just about burst a vessel. Like his sons, Jeff had to have something to occupy himself with at every moment. Eventually Grandma had consented to let him type a few reports on his laptop, but that was as far as she was willing to relent.

He entertained the thought of calling his mother, just to see the looks on his sons' faces when she caught them acting so childishly, but decided against it, for the moment. It was amusing, and they weren't doing anyone any harm.

What they were doing, was playing two-a-side soccer on the small patch of grass by the pool. Normally, this would be a reasonably controlled game between grown men. However, with Gordon and Alan both on the same team, things were getting pretty heated. The Terrible Two were enjoying the opportunity to mix teasing their older brothers into their tactics, a plan which, Jeff had noticed, had gone very well.

"Ah, he's getting near-sighted in his old age, Gords!" chuckled Alan as Scott misjudged a kick and slipped. He landed painfully on his backside. Virgil dashed forward to help him up.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, fine," grunted Scott, waving his younger brother away. Jeff wasn't so convinced, and made a mental note to keep an eye on him. Bruised backsides were definitely uncomfortable.

The game continued in a similar vein for some time, the younger team getting the older team more and more incensed. And the more incensed the older team got, the more goals the younger team were managing to score. Jeff had decided to keep the scores, knowing that his sons would only argue otherwise. Currently, the Terrible Two were leading the Golden Oldies twelve to five. As Gordon scored another goal, Jeff mentally changed it to thirteen to five.

In response, Virgil sent a particularly vicious kick at the ball. He clipped it, and it flew off the "pitch", right into the stomach of a very surprised Brains as he descended the steps. The scientist doubled up, wheezing.

Straight away, the boys and Jeff were around him.

"Are you alright, Brains?"

"Sorry Brains, I didn't mean to hit you-"

"It's... a-alright," gasped Brains, straightening up. "I-I-I just came, ah, t-t-to tell you that, ah, d-dinner is r-ready," he said with his characteristic stutter.

"Thank you, Brains, said Jeff, relieved that his scientist was alright.

TB

Later that evening, Jeff sat contentedly at his desk, dictating a report to Tin-Tin. He could have typed it up himself, but with his arm in a cast, it would have taken about twice as long as usual. His sons were scattered throughout the sitting room. Scott and Gordon were sitting over a game of chess- the only time Gordon ever sat still- Virgil was at the piano, and Alan was talking to John's portrait.

"Anything else you want brought up, O Great One?" he asked, safe in the knowledge that there was plenty of distance between him and the space station. John, to his credit, didn't rise.

"We're running low on chocolate and-"

"Chocolate? _Again?_"asked Alan incredulously. "For goodness' sake, John, how much do you eat a day? There was several months' worth when I left last month."

"I said we were running low, not that we'd run out altogether," replied John smoothly. "There's still some left-"

"Yeah, I'll bet they're those crappy ones full of nuts. The ones I hate."

"If you know I can't eat them and that you don't like them, why do you send them up?"

"Because someone over there _does_ like them," glowered Alan, nodding his head at Scott. Scott, in the middle of planning a move, appeared not to notice.

"He does his turn in the satellite, what, every six months? I think he could survive two months out of twelve without nutty chocolate bars."

"Two months out of twelve without nutty chocolate's like two months out of twelve not being in the water for Gordon," called Scott from his game. Gordon retaliated by taking one of Scott's bishops.

"Right, I'll put chocolate on the list, just not the nutty ones. Anything else?"

John continued issuing his instructions. Kyrano walked in.

"Mr Tracy, the mail plane came earlier today. I apologise for not giving your mail to you sooner," he said, bowing slightly.

"That's fine, Kyrano," replied Jeff, taking the large bundle from his friend. Kyrano continued to issue mail to the others. Tin-Tin was given a rather thick wad that Alan eyed warily; he was perfectly aware his girlfriend had plenty of admirers. He himself received a parcel. He grinned gleefully before tucking it underneath his sweater on the seat next to him.

Virgil thanked Kyrano as he handed him his new piano music and immediately set to learning it. Brains received a rather official-looking letter.

"Ah, m-Mr Tracy?"

"Yes, Brains?" said Jeff, looking up from one of many reports.

"I have, ah, r-received and ih-invitation to an, er, gathering of s-s-scientists n-n-next week."

"That sounds interesting. Where is it?"

"In n-New York, sir."

"Well, I think we can spare you for a few days. Would you like any of the boys to go with you?"

"Ah, yes, I'd a-appreciate the company."

"I'll go!" said Alan, jumping up.

"My ass you will," snapped John from his portrait. "I'm not waiting another week for my leave."

"That'll do, John," said Jeff sternly. "Gordon, do you fancy a trip to New York?"

"Uh uh. I hear there's gonna be some good waves heading this way."

"I'll go, father," said John. "I'd be interested in this gathering, and if I get really bored, I can go to a bookstore or something."

"Wow, sounds like a fun-filled trip, Johnny-boy," said Gordon sarcastically.

"Shut it, Fish-boy."

This, surprisingly, came from Scott. The elder Tracy gave his little brother a wink. A wink that promised some juicy information later. That was enough to keep Gordon happy, for now.

"Well, it's settled, then. Brains, are you happy?"

"Yes, sir."

"Fine. Alan will be going up tomorrow to start his rotation, John can get a couple of days' recuperation, and then the pair of you can go to this conference or whatever it was."

Everyone seemed happy with this. Scott sat back down to his match with Gordon, rather gingerly, Jeff noticed. Gordon, surprisingly, didn't mention it. Jeff felt he had some gossip to catch up on here. How could Scott keep Gordon, of all people, quiet?

Just then, Grandma came in, her normally kind face hard and cold. Her bony fist was clenched round a wooden spoon.

"Who's been in at my chocolate cake? I baked it for John coming home tomorrow, and someone's already nicked a slice."

"Scott, where are you going?" asked Alan, a smile widening on his face as he watched his brother sneak out of the sitting room. Grandma followed him, spoon at the ready. Moments later, a yelp reached their ears.

"I'd imagine Grandma found Scott's bruise," muttered Jeff, continuing his dictation.


	2. Chapter 2

**i apologise for the late update, but i've got sooooooooo much going on (don't we all?) anyway, here's the next chapter**

Ch. 2

John sat heavily at the breakfast table, yawning.

"And a good morning to you too, Johnny," said Scott, not looking up from his own breakfast. John didn't bother commenting, instead pouring himself some coffee and helping himself to cereal. Grandma bustled over with a heavily laden frying pan.

"Are you sure you won't have some bacon and eggs, John? You're looking peaky." John smiled patiently.

"I am naturally pale and thin-"

"Make that skinny and pure white," muttered Virgil.

"-and no amount of food or tanning will change that. Honestly, I'm fine." Grandma pursed her lips.

"I'm just not convinced that those ration packs you have on the space station are what you need."

"Now, mother," interrupted Jeff. "I lived off those ration packs for months on end when I was in NASA, and they never did me any harm."

"But," said John, before all-out war could break, "I'll have a few rashers if it'll make you happy. But let me have my cereal first."

Satisfied, Grandma went back to the cooker. Above the general munching sounds, they heard another, much more terrifying sound. After a moment, John realised that it was Gordon singing:

"_Mar-EE-a! Mar-EE-a! Mar-EE-a!_"

John opened his mouth to tell Gordon to stop murdering _West Side Story_ just as his little brother waltzed into the kitchen. He pirouetted more gracefully than John had thought possible and leaned backwards, smiling at John.

"_I've just kissed a girl named Mar-EE-a!_"

John froze as he realised what Gordon was up to, and scowled. He swiped at the red head, but his hand caught only air. Gordon had straightened up very quickly, though, John was satisfied to see, his back had made him regret it. Wincing a little, Gordon twisted himself and rubbed his lower back as he sat into the chair opposite. John aimed a kick under the table. Gordon gave no indication of having felt it except a slight tightening of his smile.

TB

"SCOTT!"

Virgil looked at his older brother, surprised.

"What have_ you_ done to upset John? I'd have thought it was Gordon who'd be on the receiving end."

"You didn't see the lovely bruise on his shin, then, did you?" said Scott darkly, standing up and scanning the room for a hiding place. "Virge, could I hide in the piano?"

"No chance, Scotty-boy. Hey, John."

The normally quiet Tracy stormed in, staring daggers at his older brother.

"Scott, why did you tell Gordon? I told you about Maria in good trust."

"Told him what? Who's Maria?" asked Virgil, looking from brother to brother.

"John met a girl called Maria last time he was in New York. She works in a bookshop, and he's been in contact with her ever since."

"And I told _you_ in the hope you'd be sensible. But no, you went and told Gordon!"

Scott raised his hands defensively. "Hey, he would have found out anyway. Besides, you shouldn't be keeping secrets from everyone. Especially Dad."

John sighed. "I want to get to know her better before telling everyone I've got a girl. I can't even say we're an item until I've guaranteed she won't tell anyone about us."

"You told her?" asked Virgil, aghast.

"No, of course I didn't. But I really like her, and I'm sure she really likes me. I just wasn't quite ready to share it just yet."

TB

Brains mentally ticked off the items in his luggage, muttering to himself.

"Clothes, s-suit, ah, shoes, tie, n-n-notebook, er, p-pens-"

"Ready to go, Brains?"

John leaned through the door to the scientist's bedroom, his rucksack over one arm.

"Er, yep." Brains picked up his own rucksack and suitcase, tugging it out into the hall. By the time he reached the plane, he was pink in the face.

"You alright?" asked John worriedly. "I don't particularly want to be flying a sicky."

"I'm fine," gasped Brains, setting his suitcase down. "I-I-I must have, ah, p-p-packed a bit m-more than I, ah, thought." John hefted it up into the cargo hold.

"Phew, I'll say! What on earth do you have in there, Brains?"

"Ah, j-just a few, er, necessities."

"It feels like you've taken your entire lab!"

"N-n-not quite, John," frowned the scientist, boarding the plane. John watched him, wondering if he should explain the finer points of exaggeration, then decided against it. Time was ticking on, and he wanted to get there in time for at least a late lunch.

Everyone had assembled at the side of the runway. Jeff lifted his communicator to his mouth.

"Alright, John, Alan says the area's clear for you to take off. I want you to call me when you get there, understood?"

"Yes, father. Talk to you in about four hours, then."

Jeff saluted in reply and the plane took off into the clear blue sky.


	3. Chapter 3

**sorry if you find any of my chapters long, i'm doing advanced higher english this year and have to train myself to do longer stories ect. 'cos they have a minimum of 1,500 words.**

Ch. 3

John's stomach growled loudly as he started on the descent. Brains smiled.

"N-n-nearly there." John simply nodded in reply, guiding the plane onto the runway by the Tracy hangar. Taxiing it into the huge building, John heaved a sigh of relief.

"Food," he said joyfully as he undid his belt and stretched. He led Brains out of the plane and they proceeded to unload it. A low growling sound behind them told them that someone had driven a car over for them. Turning, John was delighted to see the Renault Mégane that he had picked out for himself. His brothers had all gone for really expensive, fancy cars, and teased him about his choice. John had simply smiled patiently.

"It runs, it has boot space, it doesn't eat fuel, and I like it," he had said. He hadn't mentioned the fact that one of his university friend's family had owned one that had simply been a bother from the start. John's own one had been very well-behaved so far.

A few minutes later, they were in the busy streets of New York. John had learnt long ago that tooting got you nowhere, and simply turned up the radio. _Dangerous Game_ floated through the speakers.

"You know, this song's really beginning to get overplayed," complained John, changing the station.

"Tin-Tin still, ah, l-likes it, though," murmured Brains, absorbed in a whole load of information about this conference thing of his.

"Yeah, but imagine having to listen to it the whole time up on Thunderbird Five..." John moved forward through the traffic lights. A short while later, they arrived outside the hotel. John parked the car and they heaved their luggage through the front doors, waving away the staff who rushed forward to help. John simply hated people doing things for him, as did Brains.

TB

John stretched out on the double bed, gazing at the immaculate ceiling. He winced slightly as his muscles relaxed; he hadn't realised how tense they'd been.

Just as he was about to succumb to sleep, a soft knock on his door brought him round. He lay, dazed for a minute, before remembering that he and Brains were going to get lunch. As if outraged at being forgotten, his stomach growled loudly.

"Coming, Brains, just a sec." He grabbed his phone and shoved it into his pocket, then went out, anticipating a good lunch.

TB

Brains set down his knife and fork with a sigh. John looked at him with concern.

"Brains, you haven't finished. Are you feeling alright?" The young scientist nodded.

"I'm s-stuffed." John nodded.

"These are pretty big portions. Even Grandma doesn't give us this much."

"P-promise you won't, ah, tell?"

"Tell what?" asked John, confused.

"T-tell your g-Grandmother I, ah, d-didn't finish?" John smiled.

"I promise. She does get worried easily, even about me. I suppose having just one son who had a massive appetite, strong build _and_ a tan would put you in the frame of mind that _every_ young male's the same." Brains nodded in agreement.

"I s-s-suppose I, ah, don't really h-help much, um, since I t-tend to hide in my l-lab, ah, most of the, ah, time."

"Probably not. Grandma has this thing about people living on cold meals. She's actually convinced herself that the supplies on Five are all cold stuff. I keep talking about getting her to come up and see for herself, but there's no way she's setting foot inside Three." Brains chuckled softly, then glanced at his watch.

"I s-suppose we should, ah, be g-g-getting on, John. It's a-almost three."

"Sure." John left a tip and went to pay the bill. Brains followed, his mind already elsewhere.

He was excited by this conference, though he probably didn't show it. He was intrigued by the list of names on the information sheet, some of which he had heard of, others which he hadn't. His own false name, Hiram Hackenbacker, had been sandwiched between two very well-known names, Radcliffe and Meyer. Brains had heard enough about Radcliffe to be very eager to meet him; he'd developed thousands of safety devices, some of which Brains had incorporated into his designs for the Thunderbirds. Meyer, on the other hand, left Brains worried; despite the amazing advances in computer technology he'd made, the man was not well-loved in the scientific community for his well-known habit of leaving young women pregnant and unsupported. That and the fact that he was an arrogant prat. Brains really didn't want to have to speak to him more than necessary.

Once John had paid the bill, the two of them went to the building that would house the conference, only a few blocks away. Although the actual conference wasn't until the next day, Brains had been told he had to register the day before, to ensure the conference was held up as little as possible.

The building itself was one of the many skyscrapers in the area, though more modest than some of its counterparts. An expressionless, glass doorway greeted them. Beyond them, however, was a warm-looking reception area complete with comfy couches and potted plants in every corner.

"Nice," murmured John appreciatively when they stepped inside.

The marble floor echoed as a woman in high heels clipped over to them with a clipboard.

"Mr Hackenbacker?" she asked, ticking his name as Brains nodded. "I'm Stephanie Denver, co-ordinator of tomorrow's conference," she said, extending her hand for both Brains and then John to shake. "Basically, it's my job to make sure everyone's here and no one's in want of anything. Now, I have a few forms for you to fill in, if you'll just go over to the public office. Through that door and first on the left." Brains nodded and followed her instructions. John sat in a sofa to wait.

"Can I get you anything?" asked Stephanie.

"I'm alright, thanks," replied John. He looked out the windows at the traffic snailing by, then looked back, aware that he hadn't heard the clip-clop of Stephanie's high heels walking away. The blonde-haired woman still stood there looking at him, almost nervously. As John looked back at her, she blushed.

"Sorry, I was just wondering... I take it you are a friend of Mr Hackenbacker?"

"Yes," said John, instantly alert. Stephanie nodded.

"I thought so... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"That's 'cos I didn't give it. My name's John."

"John...?"

John hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was worth using his false surname. Then he decided against it.

"Tracy." Stephanie's eyes lit up considerably.

"You, mean, Jeff Tracy's son?"

"One of them," he admitted, cursing inwardly.

"Yes, of course, I thought I recognised you." Stephanie stared at the nearest potted plant so intensely John began to wonder if there was a spider hanging around inside it. Then she spoke again.

"John, I... was wondering... would you like to... you know, go-for-some-coffee-sometime?" She said this last at a rush, blushing furiously. John gaped at her a moment before realising what he was doing. He closed his mouth with an almost audible snap.

"Oh... I'm sorry, Stephanie, I-"

"Oh, it's alright," she said hurriedly, scarlet now. "I understand you might not have time or whatever, I just thought I'd... ask, you know... Excuse me, another guests just arrived." The poor girl hurried away, her heels clipping every step of the way.

John felt terrible, and was glad when Brains finally emerged. The scientist was happily stammering about the people who were to attend, the things on the agenda... John nodded and tried to pay attention, mentally deciding to go to the bookshop a bit sooner than he'd planned. Maybe he'd drop in on the conference a bit later.

**please review, i'd like to know what people think. don't like stephanie? that's fine. i don't like her either.**


	4. Chapter 4

**again, sorry for the inconsistency in the time between updates. even though it's the holidays for me right now, a combination of things makes it difficult just to get on with this. apologies in advance for anyone expecting to see lots of technical terms; i'm not brave enough to try and use them. science is alomst a foreign language to me. ironic, really. both my parents are chemist...**

**anyways, enjoy!**

Ch. 4

John debated with himself for a while that evening as he got ready for bed. Eventually, he decided he'd go to the bookstore in the morning and see if Maria was there. Maybe ask her out for lunch... Then, since she'd have to go back to work, he could look in at Brains' conference.

That decided, he smiled and settled down, reaching for his notebook and scribbling a few ideas for his next book.

TB

Brains was also scribbling ideas in a notebook. These, however, referred to a presentation he was expected to give regarding his latest project, _Skythrust_. The plane's maiden flight had been a huge success despite the hijackers, and he was expected to tell his fellow scientists a little about the process that went into planning and developing the safety feature, along with one or two other things he'd worked on.

He tapped his pen on the paper, trying to figure out what else to write. He _had_ written something out earlier in the week, but he appeared to have forgotten it. He had a power point presentation, but fortunately it was on his laptop. The notes, however, were hand-written. John had suggested that Brains got one of the Tracys to type it up and send it to him, but Brains just showed him some of the notes in his notebook to remind the space monitor how illegible his writing was to anyone else.

Truth be told, Brains wasn't looking forward to this conference so much anymore. He despised any form of public speaking, since the stares from his audience always made his stutter worse. And with the likes of Meyer there, Brains was sure his stutter would be particularly spectacular.

He cast another glance over the list of names attending, and their fields of expertise. There was someone from Jodrell Bank coming, a C. E. MacLeod. Brains made a mental note to tell John.

He looked again at the clock on the desk in his hotel room, sighing. It was now a quarter to eleven and he still had a lot to write. Rubbing his eyes wearily beneath his glasses he carried on.

TB

John smiled as he entered the bookstore. He could see Maria stacking shelves in the teenage section, and headed straight for her... at least, as straightly as he could with all the boxes dotted around the shelves. He caught his foot on one, and Maria turned around.

"John! It's so nice to see you!" She pushed a last book onto the shelf and weaved her way round the boxes to hug him. He hugged her back, pecking her on the cheek as they broke apart.

"You've cut your hair," he noted. Her dark hair had gone halfway down her back the last time he'd seen her; now it was shoulder-length.

"Yes," she replied, her eyes twinkling. "It was getting to the stage where it took too long to do it in the morning. You like it?"

John smiled. "Sure. Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to come out for lunch? I want to talk to you about a few things."

"Of course. By the way, your latest book's just come in. When I say "just come in," I mean it arrived last week and we had to read it and write reviews."

"Positive ones, I hope?" John followed her as she led him to the scientific reference section.

"Positively glowing," replied the assistant with- if possible- and even bigger smile.

As John read the reviews written by the various staff members, he felt a familiar glow. The same glow he always felt when he met up with Maria.

TB

"You should all have the appropriate information packs under your seats. Today we will receive presentations from the scientists leading in safety technology." Stephanie Denver looked around at each of the men and women in the room. Brains' limited psychological knowledge told him that the power suit and almost severe hairstyle indicated that the woman felt intimidated by the brilliant minds, as did her body language. He shook himself mentally, getting his mind back on the subject of safety developments. He'd finished his notes in the early hours of the morning, and hadn't been able to make sure they corresponded with his slide show.

"Please save all questions for the end of each talk," Stephanie went on, and Brains gave a small sigh of relief; he'd be able to concentrate much better without interruptions. "There is a notebook and pen inside your information pack for taking notes, and these talks are being recorded for the news, so _please_ don't talk during these presentations as, chances are, you will be picked up." She smiled, and stepped down from the small stage. "Mr Conrad Radcliffe, if you could speak first..."

Radcliffe, an elderly man with thin grey hair limped onto the podium. He inserted a memory stick into the small laptop on the stage and opened up his presentation.

Brains listened in fascination to the scientist's surprisingly strong voice, scribbling note after note. He kept forming questions to ask the scientist, only to have them answered in the talk a moment later. Among other things, the man had created a special new fibre that protected the wearer from the heat in fires several times better than the current standard material. Brains made a note to see about getting some for the Thunderbirds.

Radcliffe was thorough in his talk; there were no questions at the end. Brains' stomach lurched uncomfortably as Radcliffe shuffled back to his seat, suddenly realising he was next.

"Mr Hiram Hackenbacker, would you be so kind as to step up?"

Brains got up swiftly to the podium, fumbling with his notes. He hoped no one noticed how badly his fingers were shaking as he set up his power point presentation.

Straightening, he swallowed dryly.

"Ah, th-thank you," he began awkwardly. "I, um, have d-developed a n-new, ah, safety f-feature, which-"

His stutter was as bad as ever. He groaned inwardly as he struggled through his notes, feeling his face glow under the scrutiny of the scientists before him. One in particular, Meyer, was muttering something to the young woman sitting next to him. She frowned, clearly trying to ignore him. Brains didn't want to imagine what he might be saying about him.

Aside from his stutter, however, Brains managed to feel more and more confident as he went on. When he got onto the subject of what he was currently developing, he suddenly felt like he was talking to Jeff Tracy and his sons about some update for one of the Thunderbird machines. The only difference here was, his audience understood the long, technical terms he spouted. However, Brains was glad when he was finished.

He thought he received a pretty good applause considering how terribly he'd done, but suspected that a lot of it was out of sympathy. When he looked back, however, he saw that Meyer was the only one not clapping.

TB

The sun was hot that day. On a busy street, John knew that the combination of noise, exhaust fumes, heat and glaring light would make him dehydrated, grimy and irritable. However, in this small pocket of green in the city, he felt almost as if he were back at home. Completing the feeling of Paradise, Maria sat across the table, smiling at him.

"So, what was so important that you had to steal my lunch hour to tell me?"

John sighed, leaning forward. He'd looked around as they'd gone into the cafe, and there was no sign that they were being watched or listened to. Just to be sure, however, he'd activated the device in his phone that would detect cameras or microphones. Journalists were known to go to incredible lengths to dish dirt.

"Maria, how long have we known each other?" She shrugged.

"Since my family moved from Spain, I suppose, about five years ago."

John reached across the table and took her hands in his. She raised her eyebrows as she felt them tremble slightly. Why was this so hard?

"Maria, I love you, and I want to be with you forever, but I can't do that unless you know more about me and what I am." She frowned, confused.

"You are John Tracy, former astronaut, writer of four books and three university textbooks. You are the second of five, and the son of Jeff Tracy. You are the sweetest man I've ever met, and I love you. What else is there to know?"

John took a deep breath.

"I'm still an astronaut. I-" His phone beeped. Glancing at it, he groaned in dismay as a small dot pulsed red some way to his right.

"I'm being bugged."

Maria chuckled. "Come on, I know somewhere we can go."

TB

"Professor Hackenbacker?"

Brains turned around to see the young woman he'd seen sitting next to Meyer earlier. She tossed her red hair out of her face, her hand extended.

"Catrìona MacLeod, from Jodrell Bank. I just wanted to say how interesting your talk was."

"Th-thanks, but you d-don't, ah, n-n-need to be nice, um, ah-about it. I know it w-was bad."

Catrìona laughed, a high, lilting sound. "Genuinely, I enjoyed it. If you're basing it on your stutter alone, don't. It was fascinating. Especially the stuff about anti-grav floor plates. Why you of all people would be developing that, I have no idea, but I know my superiors would be very interested to know more."

Brains smiled. "W-would you care, ah, t-t-to j-join me for, um, r-refreshments?" he said, offering his arm. The young woman laughed again, taking his proffered arm.

"You _are_ a charmer. Of course I'd love to."


	5. Chapter 5

**-gasps- a quick update! lol. number six might take a while, though...**

**apologies in advance to anyone expecting detailed descriptions of new york. i've never been there, i'm afraid. and pardon any dodgy americanisms. i'm scottish.**

Ch. 5

"This is amazing."

John gazed in awe at the view stretched out below him. From his vantage point, he could see most of New York. The grid pattern of the streets suddenly looked like a huge patchwork quilt, the little cars running between them like coloured seams.

"Is the view not like this from the Tracy Industries building?" asked Maria, her arm linked around his.

They were standing at the top of the skyscraper block in which Maria lived. The wind whipped at their hair, throwing it high- that is, Maria's. John's was far too short for it to bother him. Maria gave a small "tch" of frustration and attempted to tie her dark hair back.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" she asked once she'd sorted herself out. John turned to look at her, drinking in the features he loved so much. He took her hands again, trying to figure out what to say.

"Maria, I love you. I wish I could spend the rest of my life with you. But I can't ask you to do that unless you know everything about me. The risks involved, the-"

"What risks?" Maria cocked her head to one side. She stepped closer to him. "I'd take you for who you are, not what you are. If there are difficulties, we'd find a way to overcome them. Tell me what is so terrible you think I wouldn't be able to accept."

John took a fortifying breath.

"I am a member of International Rescue."

TB

Lunch was a very generous buffet in a room next to the conference room. Brains quickly found himself in a group including Radcliffe and another scientist who'd also given a talk that morning, Freda Schmiekel. Catrìona stayed by his shoulder the whole time.

"I was, ah, f-fascinated by the, um, t-talk you g-g-gave this m-morning, Graham. I was, ah, w-wondering if your, ah, n-new material was, ah, available? I know th-that my employer w-would be v-v-very interested in p-p-purchasing some."

"It's due to go on the market in August, Hiram," replied Radcliffe with a smile. "I'd have it out sooner but I still need to run a few tests on it, I'm afraid. We don't know yet how much heat it can withstand. Who is your employer? I was under the impression you worked freelance."

"I d-d-do, but I, ah, am m-m-mainly employed by, ah, Jeff Tracy."

"Ah, now there's a man who's well into keeping us all safe," said Radcliffe. Brains felt his stomach lurch.

"Pardon?"

"Well, with all the money he's poured into developing safety equipment and better safety standards on various ventures."

"Huh? Oh, oh yeah," replied Brains, relieved.

"Now, Miss MacLeod, I believe it's your turn tomorrow, isn't it?" said the older scientist with a warm smile. Catrìona grimaced.

"Don't remind me. The last time I did anything close to public speaking was in fourth year at school, and apparently it's not even part of the course anymore. The worst bit is, once I've done this, I'll have no excuse for not doing demonstrations for school parties or anything else that turns up at Jodrell Bank."

Radcliffe laughed heartily at this.

"Probably not. I must admit, I had no intention of doing anything like public speaking until I had to do a short talk for a school trip that was coming to the labs one time, completely off the top of my head. The man who was supposed to be doing it, Bob Green, had taken ill, so I was press-ganged into doing it. Funny thing."

"What?"

"Well, the talk went very well, and now I love doing presentations and the like. In fact, I go to the primary schools in my area throughout the year to do little experiments with the children, and I lecture in the nearby university. For me, there's nothing better than imparting knowledge onto younger minds. If nothing else, it keeps your own mind active, and reminds you how well you revised when _you_ were a student." The three chuckled. A small ringing came from Catrìona's bag.

"Excuse me a wee minute."

Brains watched her as she left the room, reaching into her bag for her phone. On her way, Meyer caught up with her and tried to grab her attention. She shook her head politely, but he didn't seem to take the hint. He tried grabbing her arm, and Brains felt a strange surge of anger inside him. Fortunately, Catrìona managed to shake him off and hurried out into the corridor.

"That Meyer will need watching, I think," muttered Radcliffe, who had seen the whole thing. "I've heard too much about his reputation to think that he just wanted a quick chat about the world of science."

TB

John leaned against the railing of the balcony, allowing the wind to whip his hair about, just as it had done on top of the skyscraper earlier. The afternoon was growing old, and the sun was glowing less brightly, casting a warm orange glow over the city around him. His thoughts played over the events that lunchtime.

_At first Maria seemed to think he was joking. She smiled, and shook her head, like she did when he told her some awful joke. Her smile faltered when his didn't appear. She turned and leaned against the wall around the edge of the roof._

"_You're a member of International Rescue?" John simply nodded, giving her time to absorb it._

"_I trust you John, and if you're teasing me-"_

"_No teasing. I promise." He held out his badge, which he'd taken with him. He handed it to her and let her study it._

"_I know someone, who was rescued by you once. She said the badge looked just like this. She didn't mention a blonde though, just two men with dark hair."_

"_My two brothers, Scott and Virgil. You've met Scott."_

"_Yes..." she nodded slowly. Finally, she looked up._

"_This is what you meant when you talked about risks?" John nodded._

"_I work on Thunderbird Five, which is a space station. That's how we monitor people's calls; find out when someone needs rescuing. I work on a monthly rotation basis with my youngest brother, Alan, and Scott goes up twice a year so that Alan and I can spend time together."_

"_That doesn't sound too risky. It sounds more like I'd miss you for a while, even though you'd be a call away. I could live with that, for the seven months I could be with you."_

"_There's more. When I _am_ on Earth, I'm sometimes needed on rescues, the more difficult ones. And Alan sometime gets extra time planet side to spend with his girlfriend."_

_Maria stretched up and kissed him. "Well, you'll both simply have to be fairer."_

"_Maria, these rescues are dangerous. I could easily be injured, or even killed-" She silenced him by putting her finger on his lips._

"_I'd rather have a short time with you, than love you from afar. I can face the risks and the times apart, if it means I am closer to you." She wrapped her arms around him, leaning her face against his chest. John was sure she'd hear his hart thumping._

"_I love you, John. I can handle who and what you are. In fact, I feel proud of you. You and your brothers risk your lives for strangers. What woman couldn't love a man like that, despite the risks?"_

_John returned the embrace. Then he straightened his arms, pushing her a little distance away. He knelt on the cold concrete of the skyscraper roof, and dug into his pocket. He produced a small box. Maria's eyes shone._

_Opening the box, John uttered the time-honoured words._

"_Maria, will you marry me?"_

The ring had been specially made after talking to his father quietly. They'd agreed that, if Maria was willing, then John should take whatever steps necessary to make them both happy. John had then started looking for a ring. When Jeff found John looking over a jewellery catalogue, the Tracy patriarch had motioned for John to follow him.

In Jeff's bedroom, John had watched as his father had taken down a box wrapped in brown paper, to protect its dark purple velvet covering.

"This was your mother's jewellery box," Jeff explained. "I plan to give a set to each of you boys' wives should you ever chose to get married. Maria's will be the garnets, I think." Jeff handed John a box with the set inside. John gaped at his father, unaware that his father had ever even thought of something like this.

"And this," said Jeff, reaching onto the shelf for another box, "is something your Grandmother and I did years back after your mother died." John could have sworn he heard a sniff.

"Do you remember your mother's engagement ring? Silver thing, pretty plain?" John nodded. The only pattern on it had been a small, swirling design.

"We had that, both our wedding rings and _my_ engagement rings smelted together. The result was split into five pieces, one for each of you boys, and incorporated into a special ring for each of you." Jeff lifted up a ring adorned with what looked like a tiny knot.

"This is a Celtic love knot. I thought you'd like that best."

John felt his eyes moisten. Without a word, he embraced his father.

Now that ring adorned Maria's finger. John supposed he should call his father, tell him he'd finally done it, but he didn't feel quite ready just yet.

**flicking through the tv channels once, i came across a programme which was showing the preparations for a wedding. the bride's father had died several years before, and the mother had never re-married. as a present for her daughter, the mother had both her and her late husband's wedding rings smelted together, and made into a pendant for her daughter to wear as a necklace at the wedding.**

**please be kind, i don't normally write romantic stuff. this could easy fall into the usual cliché, but i'll do my best to keep that from happening.**


	6. Chapter 6

Ch. 6

John couldn't help but notice a rather frustrated look across his friend's face as Brains came into his room that evening.

"Is everything okay, Brains?" he asked, sitting up on his bed. The scientist looked up, as if he were surprised to see John there. He smiled distractedly.

"F-f-fine, thanks. H-has Mr T-tracy, ah, c-called in, um, yet?"

"Not yet. He's not due for another five minutes or so," replied John, checking his watch. He examined the swirling pattern on the hotel room carpet for a moment. "Brains, remember I told you about Maria? The woman I went to see today?"

"The w-w-woman Gordon was, ah, t-teasing you about? Yes."

"We're getting married."

Brains' face broke into a huge grin. "C-c-congratulations, John!" He shook John's arm with more force than John had thought possible. John thanked him.

"I'm telling you so you can wind up my brothers by looking smug, having heard the gossip before them," said John with a mischievous smile. Brains chuckled ruefully, shaking his head.

"No, y-y-you just, ah, c-c-couldn't k-keep it, um, to yourself," he said. John laughed.

"You know me too well."

"_Tracy Island calling John Tracy. Come in, John_."

TB

Jeff drummed his fingers on his desk, waiting for a reply. Everyone was in the living room, wondering why they'd been called from their various pursuits to listen to the daily update from John. They'd seen their father call each of his sons thousands of times, his protectiveness of them all simply accepted into ordinary routine. Gordon in particular was rather grumpy, and wet; he'd been swimming when Scott had hauled him out of the water and dragged him up to the lounge. The only other person who displayed any sign of anticipation was Grandma.

Jeff had decided to make the call through Thunderbird Five, so Alan was present too, gazing out from the picture frame that normally housed his portrait. Jeff was sure he saw a smear of chocolate at the corner of the baby Tracy's mouth.

"_This is John Tracy, go ahead, Dad._" John's face gazed out of his own portrait, Brains peering over his shoulder. Gordon started to hum _Maria_ again, only to get a clip round the head.

"How're you doing, boys? How's Brains' conference going?" Though Jeff spoke lightly, he felt his heart thumping in anticipation.

"It's g-g-great, Mr Tracy. I, ah, d-d-did my t-talk today, and, um, h-have s-s-spoken to, ah, Graham R-r-radcliffe, who has d-developed ah, a new f-f-fabric that can w-withstand, um, heat b-b-better than our c-current material."

"That sounds great, Brains, we'll talk more about it when we get back. John? Anything new with you?"

"I talked to Maria today."

Jeff nodded for his son to continue, holding his breath.

"She said yes."

Grandma gasped in delight, and Jeff released the breath he'd been holding, smiling. Suddenly, he wished he could hug his son. Behind him, his sons and the Kyranos were getting confused.

"Who's Maria?"

"What did John ask her?"

"What's going on?"

Scott figured it out first. He whistled.

"Nice one, Johnny-boy!" On screen, John's normally pale face flushed pink.

"Your brother," said Jeff, turning to the rest of the room's occupants, "is getting married."

TB

Brains couldn't help but laugh as John reeled away from the screen, deafened by the cheers and whoops emanating from the tiny but powerful speakers. Once John had recovered, he cautiously leaned back at the screen again.

"Thanks, guys," he said, shaking his head with a big grin plastered across his face. To Jeff, he said, "Maria's gonna try and get some time off later this month, so she can come and see everyone. That alright?"

"It's more than alright, son," replied Jeff warmly. "Anything else to report? No? Then you'd better get some rest. I'll call you tomorrow evening."

"Oh, ah, M-m-mr Tracy?"

"Yes, Brains?"

"J-just so you, ah, know, the c-c-conference will, um, be t-transmitted on, ah, Friday, after its c-c-completion. There will b-b-be a speaker from, ah, NASA and another f-f-from Jodrell B-b-bank."

"Thanks, Brains. And I look forward to seeing yours too." Jeff smiled at them and cut them off before Brains could think up a witty retort.

"Phew, that was exciting," said John, leaning back in his chair. "I think I might come with you tomorrow, have a listen to these speakers." He got up and gazed around the room. Eventually, his gaze alighted on a key ring dangling from the front pocket on his bag. It had a photo of Maria on it. He sighed. Then he thought about the reception that would probably await him back on Tracy Island. Suddenly, marriage seemed a lot more daunting than it had earlier.

"We're in for some fun times ahead, Brains," he said.

TB

Many, many miles above, Alan leaned back in his own chair the same way John had done. The screen's view of the Tracy lounge blinked out of view to be replaced by the International Rescue logo.

He wasn't sure what he felt. He was happy for John, that much was certain. Yet, at the same time, he felt a vague sense of panic. After a moment's contemplation, he realised what it was.

Tin-Tin.

The two of them had been close for years, yet neither had had the nerve to get closer. They would do things together, talk quietly, and tease each other. Alan had always felt jealous when Tin-Tin's admirers appeared, or when she showed interest in another man. Usually, these men were musicians, TV stars, that sort of thing, and he knew most young woman acted the same. Deep down, he'd known she wouldn't really run off with someone else, just like that. She was just teasing him.

However, each time she did this, it scared him. He was afraid of losing her.

But at the same time, he was scared to get closer to her.

John's announcement had really brought it home to him. The money, after all, had always been on _Alan_ getting married first, if any of them. The odds on John hadn't been that high, what with spending half the year in space and being, in Gordon and Alan's opinion, one of the quietest, almost most _boring_ people on the planet.

Interesting how things had worked out, then.

Alan looked at the photos tacked up around the control room on Thunderbird Five. There were plenty taken by John, fancy, artistic ones. A few were holiday and childhood snapshots, some more recent. Alan caught sight of one he hadn't noticed before.

That had to be John's handiwork, no one else but Virgil took photos like that, and Virgil hardly ever came up there.

Surrounded by bright green leaves and exotic, orange, red and pink flowers, sat Alan and Tin-Tin, hand in hand, watching something far off.

Alan stiffened his resolve. When he was next planet side, he was going to have a chat with Tin-Tin.

**i've already written the next chapter, so expect it to be updated in the next couple of days, really. now that i've sorted out exactly where i'm going with this, it's getting a lot easier to write each chapter. before, maria wasn't even gonna exist. now, however, i'm glad i did put her in. there's a lot more i can do when i've got two or three stories running alongside each other, so long as people don't get confused XD**


	7. Chapter 7

**a note about the title: the normal phrase is, "a match made in heaven," but, being brains, the chances are he wouldn't say that :P however, it really doesn't feel right, so suggestions are welcome!**

Ch. 7

The alarm clock beeped at half seven, as usual. John opened his eyes blearily, just enough to make out the red numbers gleaming in the semi-darkness of the hotel room. He flapped his hand in the general direction of the numbers, and the beeping stopped.

He rolled out of bed, aware that he was feeling good for some reason. As the water in the shower blasted at him, waking him up, he remembered. He was getting married!

Full of good spirits, he continued to make himself look decent for public appearance, and met Brains down in the dining hall. The scientist was already in the world of calculations and chemicals, and did little more than nod as John joined him at the table. John, used to his distant mannerisms, simply poured himself a coffee. As a waitress came up to them to collect their order, Brains came out of his reverie.

"S-s-sleep, well, ah, J-john?" he stuttered.

"Like a log, Brains. Might have had something to do with that glass of champagne, though." Brains chuckled.

"Are you p-planning to, ah, c-c-come to the c-conference, um, today?"

"Yup. I'm looking forward to seeing who the speaker is from NASA, for a start, and what they've been up to in Jodrell Bank. I went there once when I was a student."

"The s-s-speaker, ah, for Jodrell Bank is, um, C-c-catrìona MacLeod," said Brains. John noticed that Brains was feigning nonchalance; he always rested his chin on his hand when he did so. "I c-can't say, ah, for N-NASA. It's on the, ah, l-list of s-scientists, um, attending the, ah, c-conference."

"Catrìona MacLeod..." mused John. "Don't remember the name last time I was there. Admittedly, though, that _was_ a good four years or so ago. It's a great place."

"Yeah, I w-went there, ah, when I was a ch-ch-child."

Their breakfast arrived, and they ate quickly, chatting happily about their experiences in astronomy.

TB

Catrìona walked into the empty conference room, making a bee-line for the laptop by the stage. She'd deliberately arrived early, so that she would have plenty of time to get psyched up before giving her talk. That, and she wanted to make sure the computer would read the files on her memory stick.

Just as she booted the machine up, she was aware of someone else in the room. Looking up, her heart sank.

Meyer stood by the windows, watching her. She took a moment to note that he'd placed himself in the centre, right were the sun was, so that the light shone around him and cast a lot of him in shadow. She rolled her eyes even though she knew he'd see her do it, and carried on with setting up her presentation, making a few minor adjustments.

"Miss MacLeod. I was wondering if you would like to join me for dinner this evening? Maybe even take in a show at the theatre?"

He was trying to be smooth, polite, she knew it. Well, student life in Glasgow had prepared her for when men got too interested. Step one was to ignore them, which she did.

"You're not still annoyed with me, are you? I didn't realise you had to take a phone call."

Step one didn't seem to be working. Step two was to reply curtly and show you weren't interested.

"I'm not surprised you couldn't hear the ring tone, given your small attention span during yesterday's talks," she snapped, tapping the small keyboard slightly harder than usual. She shot him a glare that normally sent the softer men into a hasty retreat. Meyer continued to watch her, and she resumed ignoring him. After a few minutes, he spoke again.

"I know you've heard... bad stories about me, but I can assure you, they're-"

"What, not true?" Catrìona snapped, almost slamming the laptop closed. "Aye, right. Like I'm supposed to believe that." She looked up, and was a little startled to see that he'd stepped closer, away from the windows. The sun was a little higher now, but the light was still intense.

_Step three is to thump the eejit_, she thought._ This isn't your average Glaswegian thug, however. He works with mind-games, not fists._ As she debated what to do, he sidled closer. There were mere inches between them now.

"I can show you what a good man I really am," he murmured, gazing down at her. She stared steadily back, until finally his gaze wavered. He turned away, an unreadable expression on his face. The sun had climbed high enough now that it was no longer visible from the window, making its light less intense in the room. Catrìona continued to glare at him as the other scientists began to file into the room.

"You don't know what you're missing," Meyer murmured, just loud enough for her to hear, as he walked away.

_Oh, I think I do_, thought Catrìona. _And you know what? I'm glad I am_.

TB

Something was tickling his nose. He raised his arm and scratched it, sure for a moment he heard a snigger. Paranoia kicked in, and his eyes flew open.

There was no one there. He must have just imagined it.

Scott shut his eyes again and wriggled a little in the hammock, getting comfortable once more.

His forehead was itching now. His eyes flying open, he scratched his skin, sitting up and looking around him.

There was still no one there. The pool was completely devoid of Gordon, He could hear piano playing through the open French windows of the lounge, but there was no one nearby. Shrugging, he lay back and settled down again.

This time, something was tickling his cheek. He opened his eyes again, and saw something out the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he grabbed at it reflexively.

It was a feather, attached to a piece of string. He followed the thin twine up, discovering it to be tied to the tree branch directly above the hammock. This had Gordon written all over it. It was either revenge for clipping him round the head yesterday, or the water-baby was venting some steam from boredom. After all, his usual accomplice was up in space.

Scott yawned and stretched. He decided to go and see what the others were, rubbing his hands over his face as he did so.

As he entered the house, the smell of banana reached his nostrils. He breathed in the heavenly scent for a moment. Grandma was making... banana bread... probably twelve minutes out of the oven...there were some nuts in it... no, there weren't nuts... Scott smiled. She'd made two, one without nuts for John. He and Brains weren't due back for another couple of days yet, though... Scott was confident both loaves would be finished by then.

He walked into the kitchen, unsurprised to see Grandma watching the loaves. She had shown a distinct protectiveness over her baking since Scott had stolen a slice of that chocolate cake. It had been worth the bruise, though.

Scott prepared himself for a witty retort to Grandma's inevitable question of, "And what do you think _you're_ up to?"

However, Grandma simply stared at him, rooted to the spot.

"Is everything alright, Grandma?" he asked worriedly. Just then, Virgil walked in, undoubtedly also brought by the irresistible scent of banana bread; his nose, though less well-tuned than Scott's, was by no means inexperienced. Virgil, too, stood, rooted to the spot, staring at Scott, before shattering the sudden silence with a loud guffaw.

He doubled over, clutching his ribs, snorting to himself, before he could compose himself again.

"What?" asked Scott, beginning to get annoyed. Virgil seemed to be struggling not to laugh again.

"What's going on in here?" asked Tin-Tin, coming in from the pantry. When she saw Scott, her hand flew to her mouth to hide the smile that appeared on her face. Then Scott was blinded by a flash of light.

"Gold!" crowed Gordon, clutching his beloved digital camera. Scott hated that camera; it had recorded the results of many a prank. However, the red-head had some unknown hiding place for it, that none of his brothers, not even Alan, knew the whereabouts of.

Grandma seemed to have recovered. Taking her grandson by the elbow, she led him gently but firmly to his bedroom, pausing only to get Tin-Tin to watch the banana bread while she was gone. Even Virgil in the same room was a threat.

Wordlessly, Grandma led Scott into his bathroom, and pointed at the mirror. Dreading what he would see, Scott took a look.

His face was covered in green smears. Looking down at his hand, Scott groaned. Gordon had somehow managed to paint his hand green while he was asleep, and had then rigged the feather so it tickled his face. When he scratched...

Scott sullenly washed his face, glad to see his brother wasn't quite so suicidal as to use something that wouldn't wash off. However, this action was a declaration of war, and Scott never refused a challenge.

**just a bit of light humour, and another storyline to mess with :P**

**translation: scot's dialect- _eejit_ means "idiot". not one i use much myself. i much prefer saying _neep_, being from caithness. a neep is, literally, a turnip, and is also used as an insult, but it can be quite affectionate at times...**


	8. Chapter 8

Ch.8

John followed Brains into the conference room. He was surprised by how light and airy the room was, and also how large it was. For some reason, he'd imagined a small, dark room, similar to Brains' "office" back on the Island. There was half an hour to go before the conference, but already a large number of people had gathered, chatting over the backs of chairs, standing in clusters by the windows of milling around at the foot of the small stage at the end of the room. Brains led him to the stage.

A young woman with red hair stood by the laptop, a frown wrinkling her forehead. As she saw Brains, this smoothened out.

"Hiram! How're you this morning?" She smiled as they approached.

"I'm f-f-fine, Catrìona," Brains stuttered. "This is J-j-john, ah, the son of m-m-my, um, employer." John shook hands with Catrìona.

"Br- Hiram tells me you work at Jodrell Bank," said John. "I went there once, when I was a student."

"Really? That must've been before my time there, then. I only started there three years ago."

"Yeah, it was about four years ago that I went there."

They continued in the same vein for a while, until Stephanie Denver mounted the stage.

"Please take your seats, everyone, the conference is about to begin." She waited for everyone to get settled.

"G-g-good luck," whispered Brains as Catrìona went to her seat by the stage, looking very much like she'd rather be elsewhere.

As everyone settled, John found himself sitting next to a man who looked to be in his early thirties. He had neatly combed, dark hair, and wore expensive clothes. The watch on his wrist winked in the light. Wondering if he should introduce himself, he was torn away by Brains nudging him in the side. He turned to see an elderly gentleman offering his hand to shake.

"John, this is, ah, P-professor Graham, um, Radcliffe," murmured Brains. John shook the proffered hand.

"John Tracy."

"Ah, yes, Jeff Tracy's lad, yes?" The man had a distinct southern English accent.

"One of them," smiled John. If Gordon had been there, he would have undoubtedly announced "Number two!" in a gleeful voice, but John decided it wasn't necessary to stoop to his younger brother's level.

"Yes, yes, I can see the family resemblance." Radcliffe glanced up as Stephanie called Catrìona forward, then sat straighter in his chair. "I've been looking forward to listening to this one. Don't be fooled by her self-conscious manner; my experience of Scottish women is that they can be quite formidable when crossed."

Before John could reply, Catrìona started to speak.

TB

"That was g-g-great t-talk you, ah, g-gave today, Catrìona."

"Thanks, Hiram." Catrìona smiled at him over her mug of coffee. They were sitting in one of the many coffee houses situated nearby the conference site. John had gone off to meet Maria, and the sky outside was growing redder and warmer outside.

"So, you're employed by John's father," said Catrìona, gazing out the window and sighing. "What's it like?"

Brains swallowed his mouthful of coffee carefully before replying. "It's g-g-great. M-mr Tracy, ah, gives me f-f-free rein, um, over what I w-work on. Sometimes he, ah, specifies s-something, b-but, um, I still g-g-get a lot of, ah, freedom."

"That must be a lot of fun, letting your imagination run wild," sighed Catrìona wistfully. "I only get to let it run free at work when trying to guess what various systems might look like. Otherwise, it's eye glued to the telescope, pen at the ready, and hope to find something interesting."

"Have you, ah, d-d-discovered anything?"

"Nope. Well, I saw a comet once, and everyone got really excited, they were getting set to name it after me and everything. Then it turned out the thing had been spotted fifty years previously by someone called Graham Tracy."

"That s-s-sounds, ah, like Mr T-tracy's father's um, n-name."

Catrìona laughed that lilting laugh of hers. "Doesn't that just take the biscuit? It's almost like fate!" She smiled warmly at Brains. He smiled back. Then the moment was broken by a waitress bringing a re-fill.

Once she'd gone, Catrìona tapped the table thoughtfully.

"So, whereabouts do you live, anyway? Any family?"

"Ah, no," admitted Brains a little sadly. "N-not _close_ family, anyway. I was adopted b-by a professor when I, ah, w-was small, um, b-b-but now I, ah, l-live with the, um, Tracys. They're like a f-family, I guess."

"Aw," said Catrìona, and Brains wasn't sure whether it was sympathy or a reaction to his claim that the Tracys were like a family. It was true, though.

"I've got the works, brothers, sisters, parents, more cousins, aunts and uncles you can shake a stick at... it's murder come Christmas time," she chuckled. "I used to agonise over what to get everyone. Now it's a case of, now, what shall I paint for whom?"

"You p-paint?"

"Yup."

"John's younger, ah, b-brother, Virgil, is a f-fantastic artist."

"Oh, whey, is he one of the Tracy brood too? I've heard of Virgil; I love his stuff. He's a musician too, isn't he?"

"Yeah." Brains shrugged. "They've all g-got, ah, something under, um, their b-belts."

"I'll bet they have," murmured Catrìona. She glanced at her watch. "Crap, is that the time? I'm gonna have to go, Hiram, I can only wait so late before calling my parents, what with the time difference."

"Here, l-let me walk you back." Brains paid the bill and gave Catrìona his arm. Together they stepped out into the evening.

Despite the warmth earlier that day, there was a fresh wind blowing through the darkening city. Catrìona's hotel was only a block away, so they walked arm in arm along the pavements.

This part of the city was pretty quiet, with only the occasional car passing by. Young couples walked hand in hand past them, absorbed in their own worlds. The occasional gust of wind blew the odd leaf by them.

"It's funny, this place seems so nice, yet..."

"What?"

"I hate cities. I grew up on Skye, one of the western isles. Very rural. Glasgow came as a bit of a culture shock when I went to university."

"I d-don't like, ah, cities m-much, either. I live with the T-tracys on their island."

They reached the entrance to Catrìona's hotel. She turned to him.

"Thanks, Hiram, for a lovely evening. It was really nice." She reached up and kissed him on the cheek, then hurried inside.

Brains stood dumbstruck for a moment, his hand to the spot where her lips had touched him. Then, regaining his senses, he turned, and started on the walk back to his own hotel.


	9. Chapter 9

Ch. 9

John groaned as he saw who had tapped him on the shoulder. Stephanie Denver was smiling up at him, her grey power suit striped with a rather shocking pink. He was sure Tin-Tin would have a fit at the amount of make-up this woman was wearing if she saw her. He forced a polite smile on his face.

"Good morning, Miss Denver."

"Stephanie, please," she said with a high laugh that sounded as false as her nails. "I saw you yesterday, but I never had a chance to speak to you. Are you enjoying the talks?"

"The ones I saw yesterday, yes," replied John, frantically looking for Brains whilst trying to _not_ look like he was frantically looking for Brains.

"I was wondering if you were free this lunchtime? I know they provide a buffet, but I was thinking about going to the little Italian restaurant across the street. Soup, sandwiches and cold meat can only satisfy for so long." Again, she tittered.

"I'm sorry; I'd rather stay here for lunch, if that's alright with you. I don't mind cold food."

Stephanie paused, her eyes losing their false merriment.

"I think you'd prefer the food in the Italian across the street. Or, if you don't fancy it at lunchtime, how about this evening? Say, seven?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm meeting my fiancé this evening." He felt cruel saying it, but this woman had to learn he was not available.

"Your... alright," she said, the false merriment trying to come back into her eyes, though John noticed they were tinged with disappointment. "That's fine; I thought I'd just... ask, you know... Peanut slice?" she asked, holding out a plate from the table beside them.

"Sorry, no thanks, I'm allergic," replied John. He finally spotted Brains at the other side of the room, talking to Catrìona and Radcliffe. "I've gotta go..." He hurried away.

TB

Harold Meyer glared reproachfully at the unaware back of Catrìona MacLeod. The woman had resisted his attempts to ask her out for the evening, quite rudely, he hastened to add. For him, this was a challenge, one he wasn't willing to give up on. The fact that she was playing hard-to-get made her all the more attractive. Why she preferred hanging around with the stuttering imbecile and the ancient toff, he really had no idea. Sure, Radcliffe was more around her neck of the woods, but Hackenbacker? What she saw in him, Meyer was sure he didn't know. He wondered if perhaps she was simply using him to get to the Tracy boys.

He watched as the blonde one made his way over to them. Which one was he again? Alan or John? One was an astronaut, the other a racing driver, but Meyer had no interest in such things.

He felt a surge of annoyance as Catrìona greeted Tracy warmly. In his mind, this only confirmed his suspicions. Meyer didn't understand what she saw in _him_ either. Sure, he had money, but so did Meyer. As for charisma, Meyer was sure he was a bit more well-endowed than the pale, skinny Tracy over there. Wasn't he supposed to live on a tropical island or something? Meyer wasn't convinced.

His reverie was broken by the Denver woman stepping up on the stage and asking everyone to go to their seats. _She'd_ been quite keen on Tracy as well. For once in his life, Meyer felt threatened. Sure, his business had been threatened from time to time, but he'd always come out on top. He could do the same here.

TB

Scott allowed the music coming from Virgil's piano to soothe him for a moment. Then, he sat up bolt right, aware that he'd almost fallen asleep. Virgil hit a wrong chord and sighed.

"Scott, that's the third time you've done that in the last five minutes. Gordon's done his prank for today; he'll have got it out of his system." Scott scowled.

"The fish never gets it out of his system, Virge," he said, rubbing his face wearily.

"Well, I'll keep an eye out for him, how's that?" said Virgil, turning back to the keyboard. "I just don't want to have to put up with you being cranky because you've missed out on your nap." Scott laid back, one eye still open.

"Virge, I do _not_ get cranky because I haven't had a nap," he said.

"I beg to differ," muttered Virgil, once again losing himself in Debussy's _Claire de Lune_. Scott felt himself drifting away through the beautiful, delicate high chords. Virgil seemed to be losing himself in it just as much. That is, until he reached the low E. Scott cracked open an eye and stared quizzically at his brother.

"Virge, what's wrong with the piano?" he asked.

"I don't know," muttered Virgil, playing the E again. There it was again, an unmistakeable buzzing sound. He played the notes around it, and they too buzzed. Frowning, Virgil stood up and peered inside the piano.

"Gordon," he growled, reaching inside and pulling something out.

"What's he done?" asked Scott wearily, sitting up. Virgil waved a piece of paper at him.

"Stuck this bit of paper on the strings inside so they buzz. He's done it before." He held it on front of him. Scott could just make out Gordon's hand-writing on it.

"What's he saying?"

"_Oops, I guess it wasn't meant to sound that way, was it?_" Virgil scrunched the paper up in his fist. "I hear fish are good with chips," he growled. Scott simply smiled. He didn't envy anyone who got between Virgil and his music. He stood up and put an arm round his brother's shoulders, leaning in conspiratorially.

"Yes, but first you have to catch the fish, and then fry it," he said casually. Virgil looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

"I assume you have a net big enough?"

"Between you and me, I'm sure we'll think of something," grinned Scott. He led Virgil outside, and they began to plot.

TB

The usual group stood by the windows, happily munching on the food from the buffet.

"They're definitely treating us here," said Radcliffe, helping himself to another sandwich.

"I'll s-s-say," agreed Brains, rubbing his stomach. "I'm stuffed."

"Join the club," said Catrìona. "I don't think I've eaten this much since before I was a student. Except perhaps at my twenty-first. I don't really remember it that well..." She blushed. "Suffice to say alcohol ran freely. Normally I don't touch the stuff."

John laughed. "Sounds like my brother Scott's twenty-first. Thing is, the rest of us weren't old enough to buy anything, so we got bored pretty quickly."

"My twenty-first birthday, I must admit, involved a visit to the pub," chuckled Radcliffe. "It was so long ago, though, I'm not entirely sure what we got up to. I seem to remember that a traffic cone was found on the head of the statue in the main square..."

"M-m-my twenty-first was, ah, a m-much more subdued, um, affair," said Brains a little sadly. John nodded. He remembered. It had been around the time Gordon had had his hydrofoil crash. Everyone had been in such a state of panic, Brains' birthday had slipped by unnoticed.

"We had a party for you later on, though," John pointed out.

"Yeah, b-but no, ah, b-booze," chuckled Brains.

"I thought you didn't like the stuff anyway?"

"No, b-but your, ah, b-b-brothers weren't t-too impressed."

They all laughed, only to be interrupted by a fifth voice.

"Good food today," said Meyer, stepping into the circle. Catrìona shrank away slightly behind Brains.

"I don't believe we've been introduced," he said to John, offering his hand. "Harold Meyer, of Meyer electronics."

"John Tracy," replied John, shaking the hand. Unsure what to say, he turned back to the others. They seemed to be looking anywhere but at the two of them. Meyer had gone back to stuffing his face.

"Have you tried these?" he asked, holding up what looked like a small chocolate ball. "Fancy truffle things, very nice."

John reached to the platter on the table, then hesitated.

"They don't have nuts in them, do they?"

Meyer hesitated. "No, don't think so." John shrugged and took a bite.

"So, enjoying the conferences? I saw you this morning, and the morning before as well."

"Yes, they're very interesting," replied John, frowning at the truffle. "I was particularly interested in..." Suddenly, he dropped the truffle onto his plate and set them carefully onto the table. "Excuse me a moment." He stumbled over to Brains and tapped him on the shoulder. Brains opened his eyes wide as John clutched at his throat, swaying slightly.

"John?"

John collapsed onto his knees.

"John!"

**i'm going back to school on wednesday, so i can't guarantee frequent updates after that. especially since the sixth year hallowe'en party's coming up. i'm going as esmerelda. and i've got the highland region youth orchestra over almost the entire weekend this coming weekend (yes. i have to go away on hallowe'en). so, watch this space, and see what happens...**


	10. Chapter 10

Ch. 10

The minute John tapped him on the shoulder, Brains knew something was wrong. When he turned, he was startled to see John's panicked expression and his hand to his neck.

"John?" John dropped to his knees. "John!"

Brains looked over at John's plate, saw the half-eaten truffle and put two and two together. By now, a small crowd had gathered around them.

"T-t-try to keep him c-calm," Brains said urgently to Catrìona. She nodded and knelt down beside him, murmuring softly. Brains broke out of the circle and ran to John's jacket where it was hanging over his chair; he knew that John always kept a spare epi-pen with him at all times.

TB

Meyer watched, paralyzed with shock, as Tracy well to the ground. He hadn't realised the guy was _allergic_ to nuts! He'd simply thought he didn't like them! Meyer felt awful. Already, he was wondering why he even pulled the trick in the first place.

He watched as Catrìona knelt beside John, putting an arm around him, murmuring soothing words, as Hackenbacker ran off-

Why did he run off? Meyer looked up, but his view was obscured by the crowd of scientists clustering around, trying to see what was going on. One of the medical experts that had given a talk that morning pushed through and joined Catrìona, rapidly asking questions. As she did so, Hackenbacker came back clutching an epi-pen. He handed it to the doctor, who quickly administered the drug inside. After a moment, John began shaking as the effect of the drug took place, and together Hackenbacker and the doctor heaved him up and helped him out of the room as quickly as they could. Hackenbacker shot him a very dirty look as they left.

The crowd dispersed, leaving Meyer standing by himself. He'd never seen anyone going into anaphylactic shock before; it wasn't something he particularly wanted to witness again. He watched as Catrìona and Radcliffe ran after them. As they reached the door, Brains paused and said something to Catrìona. She whirled round and stared at Meyer, her eyes furious. He dropped his gaze. He was going to endure some sleepless nights.

TB

John groaned and opened his eyes blearily. For some reason, he was lying down in a room that seemed to be completely white. As he focused better, he made out a figure sitting writing something on a worktop over by a door. He was aware of something covering his mouth, but trying to look at it made him feel busy, and he flopped back, exhausted. The figure turned.

"Mr Tracy? Can you hear me?" John nodded. The figure stepped closer to the bed, and John saw it was a middle-aged woman, with tight grey curls and a motherly expression.

_She reminds me a bit of Grandma, but younger_, thought John.

"Do you remember what happened?" she asked.

_I was talking to that Meyer person, when... I tasted nuts in that truffle! I must have had an allergic reaction!_ He nodded again.

"Good," replied the woman. "My name is Dr. Taylor. I'm just going to go and tell your friends you've woken up. I won't be a moment."

John closed his eyes and thought back. Meyer had told him the truffles didn't contain nuts. Which must have meant that either Meyer hadn't tasted them, or John's one unluckily contained one by accident, or-

-_Or Meyer had deliberately said they didn't_.

Why would he do that? John hadn't even _met_ the guy before, so what could he possibly hold against him? He yawned as a wave of fatigue swept over him. He'd try and figure it out later. For now, he needed to sleep. He'd forgotten how much the treatment took out of him.

TB

Meyer watched her storm over to him patiently, and, for some reason, that just made Catrìona all the angrier.

"I sincerely hope you _didn't_ know he was allergic to nuts when you gave that to him," she growled. She was a little satisfied to see him bow his head like a chastised child, but she continued to glare.

"I didn't." Meyer looked up at her, scowling. "I thought he simply didn't like them." He winced after saying it. Catrìona gaped at him.

"He _asked_ you and you still lied? You _eejit_! When someone asks you if something contains something, the chances are they do it for a reason!" She didn't care that some people were beginning to stare. She'd had it with this man ever since the first day, and this was the final straw. "I can't believe you'd be so stupid! You're supposed to be the head of a huge company! You're supposed to be intelligent _and_ have common sense! I... argh!" She ran her hands through her red hair in frustration and turned on her heel. Meyer watched her go regretfully.

_I think I may have just damaged my chances of getting her to go with me on a date_.

TB

Brains steeled himself as he put out the call. He'd shut himself in an empty closet down the corridor from the main conference room, and had activated the transmitter on his watch. He just hoped no one else was around in the Tracy lounge right now.

"_This is Tracy Island, go ahead, Brains_." Brains groaned inwardly. Scott was the biggest mother-hen he'd ever seen, and right now, Brains wasn't sure he could cope with that. On his watch, he could see Scott's face, with Virgil peering over his shoulder. Even worse.

"H-hi, Scott. Is your, ah, f-father nearby?"

"_He's probably down at the pool, but he'll have heard the signal. What's up?_"

Brains kneaded his forehead, an uncharacteristic show of emotion. "I'll w-wait until, ah, he c-comes."

"_No need, Brains_." Jeff Tracy's voice floated through the speakers on Brains' watch, and his face appeared a moment later on the dial, Scott moving over to allow his father some space. "_What is it?_"

Brains sighed. This was it.

"Ah, I'm j-just calling, um, t-to tell you, ah, that J-john had, um, an allergic reaction earlier t-today, but-"

"_He _what_?_"

"Scott, p-please." Brains sighed. He'd known Scott would react like this, but he really didn't want to have to deal with it. He needed to get back to the first aid room and see how John was, and then he would need to make sure Catrìona hadn't murdered Meyer. There would be far too much paperwork.

"_Sorry, Brains._"

"J-john had an, ah, allergic r-reaction to s-something, um, he ate, and is now r-resting in, ah, the f-first aid room under the c-care, um, of one of the m-medical experts here," said Brains. "The first aid r-room, ah, is s-surprisingly w-well equipped." On the tiny screen, Jeff's face relaxed slightly.

"_So long as he's in good hands. Could you maybe get him to call later, once he's rested up a bit?_" Jeff remembered how much the treatment could take out of John; the adrenaline rush almost always left him feeling knackered.

"Of c-course," replied Brains. A sudden bang outside caught his attention.

"_What was that?_" asked Virgil sharply.

"I d-don't know," said Brains, opening the closet door slightly to peer out.

**sorry to leave you hanging there, but i'm afraid i can't guarantee any updates for the next couple of weeks *cringes* i've got two auditions coming up, one for the rncm in manchester and the other for the rsamd in glasgow, and i'm afraid these take precedence. they also mean travelling a lot, since i live in the very north of scotland (keep going... nope, you've fallen in the sea, i don't live quite that far up) so it's a long way to anywhere, really. add homework and youth orchestra to that...**

**the good news is, i've got the next chapter written, so i might be able to at least post that, but after that... anything's possible, i'm afraid.**


	11. Chapter 11

**hello! it's been a while, but here's the next chapter. i can afford to mess around for a little, since i'm too tired to practice and i haven't got anything else to do. i got back from my trip down to manchester today, so just glasgow left. i think it went alright, but... i'll find out before christmas, anyway. now i've got to go back to school, straighten out a hell of a lot of confusion and give tours to the general public (we're having an open day to mark the school's 50th anniversary). for now, though, enjoy!**

Ch. 11

Catrìona tried to stop shaking as she knelt beside Radcliffe. The old man was bleeding quite badly, but, from her limited medical knowledge, it seemed to be only a flesh wound. He looked up and gave her a tight smile despite the obvious pain he was in.

"I'll be alright." She nodded, then froze as she felt something prod into her back.

"Get up," said a voice harshly. She did so slowly, holding up her hands.

Just five minutes ago, everything had been calming down after John's reaction, when a troop of men and women clad in black had stormed the conference room. They'd quickly herded all the scientists into the centre of the room and told them to sit in the seats. All except Meyer, who'd panicked and run. Radcliffe had chased after him, intent on stopping him and calming him down, only to get a warning bullet in the thigh. Meyer had been thrown roughly back into the group in the centre.

"Get him back in the middle with the others," growled the man nearest them, jerking his gun almost casually.

"He needs a doctor!" said Catrìona, bending down to help him all the same.

"Move it!"

Catrìona helped the old scientist hobble over to the chairs, where he collapsed onto the nearest one. Three more men and a woman came in through the door dragging John and Dr. Taylor with them.

"Any more?" asked one woman, who was clearly the leader; her belt, instead of being black like the others', was dark green. One of the men shook his head.

"The rest of the building looks like it's being re-furbished. There's a small number of staff downstairs, but we've got them holed up in the staff room behind reception." He pushed his captives onto the chairs beside Radcliffe.

"Can I just ask what you're doing?" called Stephanie Denver, standing up. The woman with the green belt, middle aged with dark hair pulled back into a tight bun shot her a mocking look.

"We're holding you hostage, what does it look like?"

"Yes, quite," snapped Stephanie. _You've got to hand it to her_, thought Catrìona. _She's not exactly afraid to stand up to people_.

"However," she went on, "you haven't exactly told us _why_ you're holding us hostage. This is simply a group of scientists sharing what they know with each other."

"I am aware of that. And what knowledge," murmured the woman. "Our task is to extract that knowledge with whatever means we deem necessary, then to take one scientist in particular back home with us."

"And who would that be?" asked someone near the back.

"A Professor Hiram K. Hackenbacker, is he present?"

TB

Brains had heard enough. He wriggled backwards along the ventilation duct, trying not to sneeze with all the dust floating around.

He'd nearly been caught when he'd stepped out of the cupboard, but fortunately the group of soldiers had been looking the other way. He'd been dismayed to see John and Dr. Taylor in their grasp. After they'd passed, he'd followed them a little way until he was sure they were headed for the conference room, then set about trying to find a ventilation shaft of some kind. It was a pretty old building, so he was confident he'd find one.

He'd eventually located one in one of the little side-corridors that didn't really go anywhere. Then he'd had the problem of climbing in.

Unscrewing the cover from the opening had been easy enough; he always kept a set of screwdrivers on his person, just in case. After it was open, however, he struggled for a good five minutes before finally managing to climb in

_I'm so unfit_, he thought. _I'm going to have to use that gym back on Tracy Island some time_.

He'd crawled through the shaft for a while, heading in the rough direction he knew the conference room to be in, and had been rewarded moments later with a view over the room.

It was bad. All the scientists and John had been herded into the middle of the room, where the chairs were. From where Brains was, it looked as if Radcliffe had been injured. The men and women with guns had surrounded them, and Stephanie Denver had asked all the questions Brains wanted to know at that particular moment, bar one: who _were_ these people? Then Brains had heard something he definitely did _not_ want to know: they wanted _him_.

He crawled back out of the duct and back to his closet.

What did they want with him? And why _him_ specifically? Why not any of the other brilliant minds in the room? The only thing Brains could think of was that they wanted International Rescue's secrets. But how did they know? Jeff Tracy had always been careful regarding security, there was no way they could know.

That didn't matter right now, though. Right now, Brains had to call the island and tell them what had happened.

TB

Jeff felt his stomach lurch as Brains' signal went off again. Had John worsened?

"Go ahead, Brains," he said. He was startled to see that Brains was back in the cupboard that he'd called from earlier.

"What's going on?"

"_Mr Tracy, I'm, ah, afraid that the, um c-conference is n-now, ah, a h-hostage situation._" Brains was whispering, but Jeff caught every word.

"A hostage situation?" asked Jeff worriedly, pressing the button he knew would summon his sons. "How?"

"_I'm n-not sure. I'm hidden, ah, in a c-c-closet, but, um, the others are t-trapped in the, ah c-conference room._"

"Do you have any idea what they want? What about the people outside? Have the police been notified?"

"_I d-don't know. All I know is, ah, that they intend t-to, um, g-get information of, ah, the s-scientists._" Brains' eyes shifted. Jeff sighed. His employee had always been a bad liar, one of the reasons he always refused to play poker with the Tracy sons.

"There's more, isn't there, Brains?" asked Jeff wearily as Scott, Virgil and Gordon came into the room."

"There's more to what?" asked Scott, standing beside his father's desk.

"I'll fill you in when you're in the air. Scott, head out to New York right away, please. And Virgil..." Jeff hesitated, deliberating whether Thunderbird Two would actually be needed. He quickly came to a decision. "Take Pod 5 with the fire fighting equipment, and take Gordon along with you. I can't guarantee you'll be needed, but I'd rather you were there, just in case."

"In case of what?"

"I'll tell you when you're in the air," Jeff repeated, at the same time pressing a button under his desk to contact Alan.

TB

Brains shifted as quietly as possible, trying to stretch his cramped limbs in the tiny closet. He really didn't want to tell Jeff that the scientists were after him, but, at the same time, if they _did_ know he was connected with International Rescue, it was a major security breach that they couldn't afford to ignore.

"_Now, Brains, what else?_" Jeff's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"H-have you t-told Alan, ah, about the s-situation?"

"_Yes, Brains, and he's contacting the police as well._" Jeff sounded harassed, as he always did during a rescue. "_Now will you please tell me what it is you're not telling me?_"

Brains sighed.

"They s-said something, ah, about t-taking me, um, with them. I was w-wondering if they, ah, know I'm with, um, International R-rescue."

"_Meaning we have a security breach._"

"Y-yes, sir."

Jeff sighed. Through the tiny speakers in Brains' watch, it sounded like someone had dropped frozen peas into a funnel.

"_We'll need to investigate this. Right now, though, I want you to stay put and contact Scott with everything you know. He can liaise with the police and perhaps you can come up with something._"

"They'll know s-someone, ah, in the b-building is, um, involved with International R-rescue."

"_That's a risk we'll have to take. So long as no one identifies you, it should be fine._"


	12. Chapter 12

**dearie me, my updates have caught up with my written chapters! oh wells, enjoy this one for now!**

Ch. 12

Scott landed smoothly, glad to see that the area was already cordoned off. He carefully checked the automatic camera detector, making sure it was working. Satisfied, he contacted Brains. Truth be told, he was very, very nervous. He'd rarely had to deal with hostage situations, and even though it was part of the training he and his brothers went and still had to go through, it was something he never enjoyed. There were just far too many things that could go wrong. John had always been good at it, but the rest of them had never quite got the knack of staying cool whilst negotiating; facing someone who was quite happy to kill someone to achieve their own means was never easy.

_But John's in there now_, thought Scott sadly. _And he's probably tired, and there's nothing he can do._

"_Y-yes, Scott?_"

"Brains! Whereabouts are you right now?"

"_I'm in a c-closet a few metres, ah, d-down the corridor, um, f- from the conference room. W-which s-side, um, of the b-building are you on?_"

"I'm on the east side of the building."

"_In that, ah, c-case, you will b-be f-facing the, um, conference room. It's on the, ah, first f-f-floor._" Scott made a note of it. There was a long line of floor-to-ceiling windows along that side of the building, and Scott could just make out the people inside. He stepped out of Thunderbird One and was met by the police chief.

"Have you made contact with anyone inside yet?"

"Yes, and they weren't too pleased," said the chief. The look on his face told Scott that this was a major understatement. "They want to know how we found out." Scott groaned.

"Meaning the hostages are probably in more danger. Any demands or threats?"

"Apparently they're carrying out their demands right now, since all they want is the information and knowledge the scientists have. They are talking about kidnapping one of them, though."

"So our informant tells us."

The policeman nodded, glancing back at the building. "May I ask who your informant is? I assume they've escaped detection?"

"For now, yes," replied Scott, ignoring the first question. "Did they give the name of the one they were after?" He already knew the answer, of course, but he needed to know how much they'd divulged. The chief shook his head.

"They're keeping quiet on that one. All I know is that they're male, otherwise..." He shrugged, clearly unhappy he couldn't do much more. Scott sighed.

"I'm just gonna check how long it'll take my buddies to get here. Until then, try and make contact with them again."

TB

John leaned back in his chair, watching as each scientist was taken roughly from the room, presumably to be questioned. He felt a lot more alert now, but he knew he couldn't take on any of these jerks. He'd always been the slightest of his brothers, and each one was at least as muscled as Virgil, if not more. The other hostages wouldn't be much help, either. These were men and women of learning, not combat. Perhaps Meyer looked like he went to the gym, but the others? Some were older than his father, for goodness' sake!

John wondered what his father would think of all this. But there was no way of contacting him. That's when John noticed.

"Where's Br- Hiram?" he whispered to Catrìona. She shrugged, her face pale.

"Did you not hear them ask for him? They're getting impatient. No one's said anything yet, but-" She broke off, her face clouding with fear and anger as her arm was grabbed and she was pulled roughly to her feet. She tried to wrestle her arm from the man's grip, but he just held her tighter until she winced and stopped fighting. John watched as she was taken out. Beside him, he heard Radcliffe chuckle dryly. John raised an eyebrow.

"They're going to get more than they bargained for," chuckled the old scientist, his face pale and drawn. John tried to rifle surreptitiously in his coat pocket. He withdrew some paracetemol, a packet of tissues, some money and a packet of chewing gum. His phone had been taken off him. Fortunately, they hadn't taken his watch, though John hadn't had a chance to activate the emergency signal. He did so now. Then he handed the tablets to Radcliffe.

"Sorry, I know they won't do much good, but it's the best I've got." Radcliffe took them gratefully.

"Any water?"

John steeled himself, then shouted out to the nearest soldier for water. The man shot him a dirty look, but got the water all the same. They couldn't afford to lose any of the scientists. Radcliffe gulped the paracetemol and water quickly.

"They really won't help, but it's better than nothing," said John apologetically, grimacing.

"Don't worry about it." Radcliffe tried to straighten a little in his seat. "Now I know how my grandfather felt. He fought in both the Great War and the Second. He got a bullet in the leg second time round. Didn't get thanked for it, though. No job to go to when he got back. So he wrote instead." Radcliffe chuckled a little. "Just as well the Government never got their hands on him. He was up there with Wilfred Owen and the like for writing against the war."

John nodded. "There aren't any left anymore, are there? War veterans like him."

"No. He died when I was about thirteen. By the time I was a young student, there were only five left. They've all gone now."

TB

Brains was going frantic. Alan was having a hard time trying to keep him calm. It didn't help that he had Brains wittering from one screen, and Scott from the other. Top that off with the fact that Jeff was listening and instructing all at once, and it was understandable that Alan took a moment in the kitchen of Thunderbird 5 to indulge in some chocolate.

He pulled the first bar his hands reached out of the cupboard without even looking, and bit into it. He immediately spat it out. He stared in dismay at the cream-coloured nuts poking out from the dark brown of the chocolate, and tossed it to the side, reaching for a nut-free one. He felt a pang of guilt as he did so. He didn't like nuts, never had, yet John was allergic. Having your older brother nearly die like that really put some things into perspective, like being fussy.

"_Alan? ALAN!_"

Alan rushed back to the console. Scott glared up at him reproachfully.

"_Where were you?_"

Alan waved an exasperated hand at the room behind him.

"I'm hardly gonna have gone far, am I?" he snapped. As Scott continued to glower, he sighed. "I went into the kitchen for a moment, alright?"

"_How's Brains doing?_"

"He's going stir-crazy, Scott, you better get in there soon."

"_Alan, this is a hostage situation. The smallest detail could mean life or death. If we barge in there, those people's lives will be at risk. Remember, they don't have Brains yet, and that's the first thing that's gonna get them riled._"

Alan ran a hand through his hair. This was why he hated his rotations on Thunderbird 5. It wasn't the fact he was in a metal can- he would have earned a kick up the backside had John heard him say that- or even being away from Tin-Tin and his family that really got to him. It was having to listen to everything going on in a rescue, knowing there was nothing he could do except talk.

TB

John watched the soldiers closely, looking for any sign of what was going on outside. He'd sent off the signal from his watch, but he couldn't risk actually calling anyone. Their captors seemed to be getting tenser by the minute. They still hadn't found Brains, and constantly asked each male scientist if they were him. John took this as a good sign; they didn't actually know what Brains looked like. Maybe, just maybe, Brains could pose as a member of staff or something... No, John decided, sighing. Brains would be as truthful as it was possible to be with a false name.

"Do you think he's alright?" asked Catrìona, hauling him back to the present. John turned to look at her. She was pale, and was sitting curled up in her chair, her arms holding her knees to her chest. Her eyes glistened slightly. John put an arm around her.

"Of course he'll be alright," said John softly. "I've known him for a long time now, and, though he seems to be on another planet a lot of the time, he's resourceful. They don't seem to have found him, so that must be a good sign."

"Absolutely," agreed Radcliffe, rising onto one elbow. He was laid out across several seats in front of them. "The boy has a brilliant mind."

They were interrupted by a commotion outside. They all looked up, to see Scott stride into the conference room flanked by two of the soldiers. John's stomach lurched.


	13. Chapter 13

**though november is a hectic time of year for me, it's now much more manageable. this means... updates! :P seriously, though, thanks for being patient**

Ch. 13

Scott looked around the room as he entered, trying to spot John. His brother was sitting at the far end of the room, by the stage. They locked gazes, just for a moment. John had his arm around a young woman with red hair, who seemed like she was about to cry. There was a man lying on the seats beside him, a blood-stained bandage wrapped haphazardly around his leg. John himself looked even paler than usual, if that was possible. Scott's stomach lurched uncomfortably. He looked away.

A middle-aged woman with a green belt over her black uniform strode over to him. She was clearly the leader. She regarded him icily. He returned the gaze, trying not to show any emotion.

"I am here to negotiate," said Scott.

"As if I couldn't guess," replied the woman coolly. She was trying to wind him up, cloud his judgement. If there was one thing Scott had learned with four younger brothers, it was how to keep his cool.

"State your terms," he said, ignoring her first comment. The woman raised an eyebrow, one hand on her hip. Closer to her weapon. Scott kept both his hands down, palms open.

"We'll be taking Professor Hackenbacker with us, and we get free exit. In exchange, none of the hostages will be harmed... more than they have already."

Scott listened carefully to the voice in his ear. He had been searched, of course, for an earpiece, but this was one of Brains' designs. Virtually undetectable, as was the microphone in his watch that was transmitting everything that was said. Alan was muttering into his ear, relaying instructions from the police and from their father.

"_Scott, we can't let them take Brains. The police are reluctant to let them get away, but, if they can't be turned, we'll have to let them go._" Alan paused a moment. "_Dad says to try and find out who's injured, and to try and negotiate medical treatment, even get them out of there._" Scott nearly nodded, but caught himself in time.

"Why do you want Professor Hackenbacker?"

"Our client wishes to speak to him," the woman replied. This was interesting; another player.

"They didn't say why, at all?"

"Our job is to do, not ask," she replied archly, a small smile turning up the corners of her lips. It wasn't a kind smile.

Scott realised he wasn't going to get any more information than that. He also realised he wouldn't be able to convince them not to take Brains away. All Scott could do for now was to try to get medical attention for the injured man.

"I can see that one of the hostages is injured," said Scott. "I'd like to take him out and get his injuries treated."

The woman stared at him, unblinking. She was thinking it over. Scott blinked freely. What was the point in drying out your eyeballs?

After what felt like an eternity, she decided.

"You may take him out."

TB

John breathed a sigh of relief. It was obvious the old man was in pain, even if he tried to hide it. He saw Scott begin to walk over, but a gun pointed at his chest stopped him.

"You will wait here," said the leader. She pointed at John. "You, bring him over."

John helped Radcliffe get up, allowing him to lean heavily on him.

_The minute I get home_, he thought, _I'm gonna have to use that gym more often_.

"You want me to give a message?" whispered Radcliffe into John's ear as they slowly made their way to the front. John looked at him in surprise. Radcliffe smiled.

"It's obvious you're brothers. I saw the way you looked at each other. Don't worry, I won't tell a soul."

"Tell him I'm alright, we haven't seen Brains, and that they don't seem to know who he is," said John quickly.

"Brains?"

"He'll know who I mean. Explain everything they've said to us, too."

They reached the front, and John handed Radcliffe over to Scott. They glanced at each other again. John smiled, then went back to his seat.

TB

The old man- Graham Radcliffe, he'd said his name was- laid back after telling Scott everything he knew, allowing the doctor to finish bandaging his leg. Scott watched, processing the information.

John was alright! Scott felt the knot in his stomach loosen slightly, but he was aware that what John said and what John felt were often two very different things. They hadn't seen Brains, but Scott knew that anyway.

The revelation that they didn't know which scientist Brains was, however, was interesting. He thanked Radcliffe, and jumped lightly out of the ambulance to join his brothers.

"Is he alright?" asked Gordon, following Scott as he began to walk back to Thunderbird One.

"As alright as he'll ever be with a bullet in his leg," replied Scott. "Fortunately, it was only a flesh wound; otherwise there'd be a lot more damage."

"And what about John? Did he say anything?" asked Virgil.

Scott sighed. "He says John's alright, but I'm not gonna be properly happy until I see him for myself, rather than just a quick glimpse. He seemed alright when I went in, but that doesn't necessarily mean a thing." Virgil nodded.

"He usually copes well after a reaction, and I'm sure the old man would have told us if there was anything worse."

Scott ushered his brothers into Thunderbird One, where they wouldn't be heard.

"Professor Radcliffe said something else, too," he murmured. "According to John, they don't seem to actually know which one's Brains."

"Meaning we have an advantage." Gordon looked triumphant.

"Only for a short while," corrected Virgil sadly, shaking his head. "The minute each scientist has given their name, they'll know he's not hiding in their group of hostages, and that's when they'll start getting _really_ nasty." He turned to Scott. "They didn't say who their employer was, did they?"

"Either didn't or couldn't," replied Scott. "That woman was giving nothing away, but it's just possible that she told me to butt out because she herself didn't know."

TB

Catrìona had calmed down a little since Scott had come in and taken Radcliffe away. _Perhaps that was all she needed_, John mused. _Assurance that there was help_.

The soldiers, on the other hand, were getting more and more impatient. The leader stood on the stage, and fired a shot into the ceiling. One of the lights fizzed out.

Several of the scientists whimpered at the bang, but the woman's stony gaze silenced them.

"I am going to ask you again," she said slowly, "And I want an answer. Where is Professor Hackenbacker?"

No one answered. The woman's lip curled into a sneer. She stepped forward and grabbed Catrìona by the arm, yanking her onto the stage. The younger woman simply glowered.

"Please, I'm not going to do the damsel-in-distress bit, if that's what you're thinking," she snapped, folding her arms as best she could in the woman's grip.

"Shut it," the leader said smoothly, holding her gun to Catrìona's head. Catrìona winced as the still hot metal touched her skin.

"I will ask one more time. Where is Professor Hackenbacker?"

John decided there was nothing for it. But, as he began to stand up and claim he was Brains, another voice beat him to it.

"I am Professor Hackenbacker."

Heads swivelled to look at Meyer, who had been silent all this time. He looked pale but determined.

"I am Professor Hackenbacker," he said again, and John had to prevent himself from rolling his eyes at his melodramatic tone. His expression changed to horror as Meyer walked forward and joined the leader.

"No!"

Meyer turned and smiled sadly at the other scientists, who were all protesting.

"It's okay," he said, and allowed himself to be dragged away.

"But he's not-"

"Silence!" roared the leader. She gathered her people round the door, pointing her gun at the scientists left in the room. "You will all go down to the main entrance after we have left this room, and stay there."

"But once you're gone, we could just walk out," Stephanie pointed out.

"You won't. One of my men will remain behind, to ensure your co-operation." She nodded at a small, weedy-looking man. However, no one would try to cross this weedy little man. Something to do with the big gun in his hands, which he cradled like a child.

They waited for the other soldiers to leave, then filed downstairs into the reception. The man stood facing them, his gun trained on them. The frightened staff stood clustered behind the desk.

The man with the gun slowly backed out of the doors. Through the glass, John could see dozens of police cars, a few ambulances, and the huge shapes of Thunderbirds One and Two. People were staring at the building, but no one moved forward to arrest the soldiers.

After several tense minutes, Stephanie asked, "Do you think we're safe, now?" She stepped forward and tried to open the doors. "They're jammed!" John went forward to help her. He pulled with all his might. They wouldn't budge.

"They've been locked!" cried Stephanie a little hysterically.

Catrìona sniffed.

"Anyone else smell gas?"


	14. Chapter 14

Ch. 14

Brains watched the procession through a gap in the doorway of the closet he was still hiding in. He reported what he saw to Scott, whispering into his watch.

"They've g-g-got Meyer of, ah, M-meyer E-electronics," he murmured, his eye glued to the tiny gap. He watched as, a minute later, the hostages filed past.

"Everyone's l-leaving! I'm going t-to, ah, f-follow."

Brains eased his stiff muscles and crept silently behind his fellow scientists. Once or twice, he was sure he'd been caught, but nothing happened. He hid in the hallway and watched the proceedings in the reception.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly; the soldier left, and Stephanie went to open the door.

"They're jammed!"

Brains watched as John tried to open them. He started to walk forward to offer his help, when Catrìona said, "Anyone else smell gas?"

Brains sniffed, and realised he, too, could detect the unpleasant smell. Already, his head was starting to throb. Either the soldiers weren't letting them go so easily, or it was an innocent leak.

"Try breaking open the doors," said John.

"It won't work, they're bullet- _Professor Hackenbacker!_" Stephanie stared at Brains like he was a ghost. Everyone turned to look at him, then Catrìona ran up and hugged him, John following behind.

"Hiram, you're alright!" exclaimed Catrìona, her voice slightly muffled by his chest. John grinned and punched him lightly on the arm.

"Good to see you, Brains," he murmured, just loud enough for Brains to hear. "Where were you?"

"In a c-closet," the scientist replied. "John, we h-have to call, ah, outside."

"That won't work," said one of the staff from behind the reception desk. "They've cut the phone lines, too."

Brains bit his lip. Catrìona had let go, but Brains still had his arm round her shoulder, and found he rather liked it. However, his watch was on the wrist that was currently resting on Catrìona's shoulder. He motioned for John to come closer.

"What's the _t-t-time_?" he whispered. Catrìona frowned her gaze moving between the two. John caught his drift.

"Time we were getting out of here," he muttered, pressing a button on his watch. Catrìona watched, wide eyed, as Scott's face appeared on the dial.

"Scott, the doors are jammed, and gas is pouring into the room. Think you can get us out?"

"_F.A.B_," replied Scott, though they knew it was anything but. Catrìona raised her eyebrows quizzically.

"I think I have a few questions, and I think someone owes me some answers," she said, and Brains smiled.

TB

Virgil powered up the laser equipment, already feeling better. Finally, he could do something, instead of waiting on tenterhooks for something to happen. Scott had called International Rescue's New York agent to go and find Meyer, and Gordon, despite his protests, had gone with her.

"I'm gonna start cutting... now," announced Virgil, moving forward to the glass doors.

"_F.A.B, Virge_," came the reply.

At times like this, Virgil's brothers often said he was "in the zone." They said this when he played his piano and when he painted, but they also said it when he operated International Rescue's machines. Suddenly, he was completely focused on what he was doing, feeling the machine's every need, knowing just when to move it, when to change the controls.

As always, he admired Brains' technology as the machine cut through the bullet-proof glass. Through the clear doors, he could make out the pale, frightened faces of the scientists, Brains and John. Virgil dimly registered the fact that Brains had his arms around a young woman, and filed it away for later.

Two and a half minutes later, the scientists were flowing out of the hole Virgil had cut, glad to breathe the relatively fresh air. An army of doctors and paramedics immediately pounced on them, hauling them over to the waiting ambulances and first aid tents. Scott was there too, "randomly" picking John, Brains and the young woman for examination. Virgil drove the equipment back to the pod and joined them. Brains was stuttering away happily, introducing them to the young woman. Virgil was rather surprised that Brains would breach security like this, as Scott seemed to be, but John simply sat back in his seat, grinning. Virgil knew that grin all too well. It was the grin that said, "I know something you don't know."

"John!"

They looked up as a young woman with dark hair ran to them, pursued by several police men. The woman embraced John, and kissed him. Virgil felt his jaw drop as he realised that this must be Maria. The police stood awkwardly, unsure.

"It's alright, officers," said Virgil with a smile. They nodded and walked away.

"Guys, this is Maria," said John, his arm around her shoulder. Scott smiled and shook her hand, Virgil and Brains doing the same. The young woman sitting beside Brains smiled weakly, looking a little shell-shocked.

"Ah, you know we're doing badly when the one who spends half his time in space is the first to get a girl," said Scott in a mock suffering tone.

"What about Alan?" asked John.

"Alan doesn't count. He hasn't exactly made any advances, has he?" replied Scott. Then he slapped himself on the forehead. "Sorry, miss, you must be feeling a bit confused," he said to the other young woman. She nodded, pushing her red hair behind her ears and laying her head on Brains' shoulder. Brains smiled down at her.

"C-c-come for some, ah, c-coffee, and I'll, um, explain everything t-to you."

"Sounds like a plan," the young woman murmured, allowing Brains to pull her to her feet.

TB

After the clean-up, Scott sent Virgil home with Brains, Catrìona, John and Maria. The two women had packed up for a short stay on Tracy Island. Scott waited behind for Gordon, chatting to his father over the radio.

"You know, father, it was one thing for John to get engaged before me, but for _Brains_ to get a girl before me too..." Scott sighed and shook his head. Jeff chuckled.

"_I think you'll find that Brains has always been a bit of charmer, Scott_." Scott's ears pricked up.

"Eh?"

"_Have you never seen him flirting with Tin-Tin?_"

"He _what_?" Scott sat up bolt right.

"_Nothing serious, just being nice to her when she and Alan had a row or something. And your Grandma's always been impressed with his polite manners. As for Lady Penelope-_"

"Wait, are you telling me that Brains is the ultimate ladies' man?" asked Scott, slightly shocked.

"_No, just not to be so surprised. The boy isn't quite so single-minded as he sometimes seems_." Scott noticed that his father's face looked very amused. Scott shook his head, then caught sight of something through the small window.

"Sorry, Dad, I gotta go, Gordon's back."

"_See you when you get back to base, Scott_."

**just a couple of more chapters to go. including... scott and virgil's revenge on gordon! funny thing. i actually forgot completely about it, then came up with something for scott to do to gordon to wind him up, then realised i still had that loose end to tie up anyway! funny how these things happen, isn't it? :D**


	15. Chapter 15

Ch. 15

Gordon looked tired and rather ratty, so Scott let him into Thunderbird One without a word. He made his brother a coffee from the ration packs he kept in the back of the craft. The stuff was disgusting, nothing like proper coffee, but it was hot and it contained caffeine and sugar, which Scott suspected his brother really needed right then. Sure enough, Gordon gulped it down without complaint, and, as they took off, he began to look better.

"Well?" asked Scott.

"No luck," replied Gordon sadly. "Shadwa and I followed them as best we could, but they had several helicopters waiting. They flew away before we could do anything."

"Didn't you get Alan to track them?"

"We tried, but they're jamming any possible signal. The best we could do was note the direction they were headed and contact other agents to keep an eye out."

"What if they changed course?"

Gordon sighed again, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I know, I know. But there's nothing we can do about it."

"So Professor Meyer is their hostage, but they think he's Brains?" Scott shook his head. "They're not gonna be happy about that when they find out."

"Shadwa's doing everything she can to find him. She's got all agents on alert, so hopefully something'll come up." Gordon's eyelids dropped despite the coffee. "Hey, Scott, fancy asking Brains to make you a comfier 'bird?" He wriggled slightly on the seat. Scott laughed.

TB

Brains helped Catrìona out of Thunderbird Two, smiling at her shocked expression as she took in the enormous hangar.

"L-like it?"

"It's just..." She shook her head, laughing softly. "I just can't... it's incredible!" she gushed. Brains grinned, putting an arm round her and kissing her cheek.

"C-c-come and meet, ah, the others." He turned to Virgil. "S-see you at the, ah, d-d-debrief. John, I c-can show, ah, M-maria where to, um, g-go, if you w-w-want."

"Sure," John nodded, helping Virgil guide the laser equipment out of the pod. Virgil was muttering about some sort of fault that had occurred. John suspected Virgil just wanted it to go faster.

Brains led both women into the passenger lift. When it reached its destination, Catrìona turned round just in time to see the door slide back into place and turn into one of Virgil's paintings once more. She still wore a look of awe, as did Maria.

Jeff stood in the lounge with Tin-Tin, Grandma and Kyrano, waiting for them. Jeff stepped forward and shook both girls warmly by the hand.

"It's nice to finally meet my future daughter-in-law," he smiled. Marina blushed. "And you, Catrìona. It's always nice to see young people in the field of astronomy and the like."

"Thank you!" gasped Catrìona, blushing. Grandma smiled and stepped forward.

"I've arranged two of the guest bedrooms for you girls, if you'd like to follow me..." She led them off into the corridor, Tin-Tin following behind. Kyrano bowed and murmured something about preparing dinner, before slipping quietly from the room. Jeff sighed and sat back behind his desk. Brains sat on the couch in front of him. He knew that if Jeff wasn't careful, he could press a button that would send Brains off to Thunderbird Three, but Brains knew he wouldn't. He watched his employer lean back in his chair, waiting for him to speak first.

"How're you feeling, Brains?" he asked eventually.

"I'm o-okay, ah, M-mr Tracy."

"And John and Catrìona? I'm sure you've all had a rough time of it."

"J-j-john has, ah, r-recovered from his, um, allergic r-reaction. Catrìona s-seems, ah, just t-t-to be a l-little, um, shaken." Jeff nodded.

"Well, it looks like we're in for a hectic time over the next few months, with a wedding to plan, and-"

"_Thunderbird One calling Tracy Island_."

Jeff pressed a concealed button on his desk and Scott's portrait became animated as it showed Scott's face.

"Go ahead, Scott."

"_Request permission to land_."

Jeff pressed another button and Alan's portrait turned into a radar screen. Apart from a blue dot, the area around the island was clear.

"Permission granted. How's Gordon?"

"_Asleep._"

TB

Gordon grunted in a very unfish-like way, then turned his head away. Scott rolled his eyes and shook him again. This time Gordon actually opened his eyes just long enough to glare at his older brother.

"Go 'way," he murmured, closing his eyes again. Scott sighed and straightened up, weighing his options. He could carry Gordon out of Thunderbird One, but he really didn't fancy doing that after a long flight. He could continue shaking him until he woke up, but Scott was already getting bored. He could leave him in the 'bird 'till he woke up, but he knew he'd get in trouble for it. He could-

Scott grinned evilly, his eyes glinting. He raised his watch and whispered.

"Virgil?"

TB

John shoved the last of the bandages back into the first aid kit and closed the lid. Somehow, Virgil had managed to cut himself on a piece of equipment, and, in true Virgil fashion, hadn't bothered to tell John until he'd managed to leave a bloody handprint over John's favourite shirt. As he snapped the clasp in place, Virgil's watch began to beep. John watched as Virgil whispered into his watch, sniggering occasionally and grinning evilly. Finally, John caught him saying "Alright, Scott," then end the transmission. John raised an eyebrow at his younger brother. Virgil grinned that evil grin again.

"Get your camera Johnny-boy. I'm off to get that new shipment that came in yesterday."

"What new shipment?" John wondered, but Virgil had already gone.

TB

Catrìona leaned onto Brains' arm, sipping at her coffee. Her face was bathed in an orange glow from the sunset.

"I could just paint that... except I can't paint sunsets," she sighed. She pulled her camera out of her pocket and took a photo instead.

"You c-c-could always get, ah, Virgil t-to paint, um, it f-f-for you," Brains suggested. She smiled up at him.

"I might just do that."

They sat listening to the chirps of tropical birds, and Brains felt Catrìona dropping off at his side. Suddenly, the peace was shattered by a yell from inside, and the previously hidden birds took off, squawking loudly. They scrambled to their feet, as did Jeff, Tin-Tin and Grandma in the lounge, and ran down to the Thunderbird silos. The yelling still floated up from below, but so did the sound of laughter.

TB

Gordon spluttered awake as icy water splashed over him. He coughed, frantically looking around for the culprit. Scott stood in front of him, holding a big bucket that, presumably, had contained freezing cold water a few seconds ago. He had the biggest grin Gordon had ever seen plastered over his face. Beside him, John stood grinning at the pop up screen on his precious video camera. With a growl, Gordon launched himself at Scott, how dodged easily.

"Look, John, the fish doesn't like the water anymore," he said, running backwards out of Thunderbird One. John followed, still filming Gordon.

"Sounds more like a big cat to me," called John, leaping gracefully down the stairs towards Thunderbird Two's silo. Gordon ran after them, yelling obscenities that would probably leave him with the nasty taste of soap once Grandma was through with him. He followed them into Four's pod, then froze. Virgil stood beside Thunderbird Four, paintbrush in hand, grinning as widely as John and Scott. Gordon stared in horror at his precious 'bird. then let out an almighty yell that had all the island's other occupants running. By now, Scott was rolling on the floor, helpless with laughter, and Virgil was close to joining him. Only John managed to stay upright, his camera still pointed at Gordon.

"Boys, what is going on down here?" asked Jeff, stepping forward. Then he saw Thunderbird Four.

All credit to Jeff Tracy, he managed not to laugh... for a few seconds. Then his deep laugh joined those of his sons, the others' following moments later. Gordon scowled.

"It's not funny," he muttered sulkily, pouting. "Virgil wouldn't have liked it if _I'd_ painted Thunderbird Two pink."

"I also don't like it when people put bits of paper inside of pianos," retorted Virgil coolly, having finally managed to control his laughter. "And, since Scott's still insensible on the floor, I'll speak for him when I tell you he doesn't like to be disturbed when he's having a nap." He clapped Gordon on the shoulder. "Anyway, it's just latex. It peels right off, look." Virgil tore of Thunderbird Four's pink covering to reveal the yellow glowing from underneath. Gordon sighed with relief.

"It was worth it for your face, though," chuckled John, waving his camera. "This is gold, and it's going to Alan tonight."


	16. Epilogue

**just one last chapter to round everything off. i'd like to say a big thankyou to everyone who reviewed, especially LittleMissBump, lissysue85 and diff-r-ent-1 for their constant reviews!**

Epilogue

For once, the entire Tracy family was together, on Tracy Island. It was only for that day, then Alan would go to do his turn of duty. Right now, Thunderbird Five had been left on automatic. Any emergency call would be patched straight through to Jeff's small photo album, which he carried with him at all times.

They were in the lounge, looking onto the balcony. The French windows had been opened wide to allow light to stream inside. John stood there awkwardly beside Scott, perspiring a little in his shirt. After a lot of heated discussion, he'd persuaded Grandma not to make him wear a suit and tie, arguing that he'd be stressed enough as it was without over-heating. Finally, after a grumpy exclamation that he'd probably pass out from the heat and dehydration, Grandma had relented, and allowed him to wear smart trousers and a pale blue shirt instead.

Virgil sat at the piano, and Gordon and Alan stood beside their father. Grandma was already sniffling happily into a lace handkerchief, as was- rather disconcertingly- Parker. He and Penelope had flown over the day before. Kyrano looked like he was itching to straighten the slightly wilted flowers in the nearest vase. Brains and Catrìona stood, side by side, smiling at him encouragingly. Behind them were a number of Spanish men, women and children.

The minister looked particularly hot in his robes. He smiled at John's unspoken concern, then looked up expectantly as Virgil started playing. Maria appeared from inside, her white dress glowing in the sunlight against her dark skin. One arm clutched that of her father's. Lucille Tracy's garnets glinted on her ears, wrist and neck. Tin-Tin walked behind them, holding up the train of Maria's dress, looking just as pretty in her pale blue gown.

Maria's father gave her away to John and joined his wife. Tin-Tin went to stand beside Alan. Maria smiled at John nervously.

As the minister spoke the time honoured words of marriage, John reflected on what this would mean for both of them. Definitely, he and Alan would be a lot fairer when it came to their times on the space station. But John didn't care about that. Being with Maria was enough for him. He knew there would be times where she would worry; he would have to continue going to rescues. However, he wasn't prepared to sacrifice having her as his wife for the sake of her not worrying. She had made it clear when he proposed to her that it was _her_ choice.

Besides, mused John, as they kissed to the sound of cheering from their families, it'd be nice to have someone else to fuss over him when he got injured on a rescue.

TB

John had never been to a party like it. To tell the truth, he'd never been much of a party-goer, unlike his brothers. Gordon and Alan in particular had clearly been involved in the preparations, judging by the number of balloons littering the place. Virgil kept them amused with his many party tricks involving the piano, and Parker had surprised them all with his special version of the rumba. He didn't see, however, Alan take his father aside for a moment. If he had, he might have mused that someone else would soon be getting some of Lucille Tracy's jewellery.

**again, thankyou to everyone. i do have ideas for a sequel, so watch this space... or the new stories list, i don't mind!**


End file.
